I love going to get my hair cut. It's 3 hours of gossiping about hubbies and children, it's quiet music with tea and water with lemon. It's scalp massages and deep conditioning. When I'm old I will be one of those white haired ladies that goes every week to get her hair washed and set. Not because I want the short tight perm, but because there is nothing better than having your hair washed, blowdryed and styled.

I go tomorrow. I used to feel guilty about being at work all week and then gone for 3 more hours on the weekend. At the new house the kids all have neighborhood friends and I am no longer the sole source of entertainment. They probably won't even know I'm gone. Still I miss them a little. But they'll have me for a long weekend the following week. Besides I've got more roots than an oak tree right now and I need some pampering after the week at work.

Next week, for sure, I promise, the story of when I wet my pants at work.