Today, I’ve been busy catching up on a quiver of projects, errands, and even stoking a fervent wish. Tie o’ the Day is symbolic of my wish: I want a beach, somewhere far from the cold and snow I live in. But that’s not on the schedule currently, so I guess I will half-heartedly settle for beach-y, tropical neckwear. I want to rent a palm tree and some white sand. A girl can dream.
I’ve been playing phone tag with the car dealership where I ordered my new truck in November. I have heard nothing from them or Ford since placing my order. I knew I would have a months-long wait to get my Maverick, so I’m not worried. I’m simply wanting to check in with somebody official about it, though, just for reassurance that my order didn’t get lost somewhere in the process. But my car salesguy hasn’t returned my texts or calls yet. I see a drive to the dealership in my plans, which I really don’t have time for—but okay.
I’ve been considering my head hairs this afternoon, and I am having a heckuva time deciding whether to keep shaving it or to let it grow out again. I have kept it shaved for almost exactly a year now. I’m feeling like a hairs change would be nice. But I also really like how it feels to have teensy-weensy head hairs. Maybe I should do both: keep my head shaved, but start a wig collection and wear a different hairstyle every day. Hey, it could be the best of both worlds. I can see the wigs now: all the obnoxious colors I can find and every hairstyle yet known on the planet. I am tempted. But if I start another collection, I can count on collecting divorce papers, too. What to do?
Another bigly project for me today has been to get working on choosing my Oscars gown. I had almost forgotten about the ceremony being only a month from now. I must get crankin’ on that. I know that sometimes I make bold attire moves that I later regret. That just comes with being a fashion genius. Sometimes you hit, sometimes you miss. But messing up with a gown at the Oscars is committing a faux pas in an entirely different universe. I cannot afford to pull a blunder on that socially-enormous, over-blown, bloated-ego stage. Nope. I must get my look right on the Red Carpet. So I’m working on it.