dianaschnuth

It’s another case of not wanting to write anything until the things in my mental queue have been posted: namely, Operation Braceface Day 1272 (debonding + retainers) and a Muffin Round-Up (since I’ve had multiple requests for my three-point muffin recipes). I need to get some of this out, though, even if just so I can look at it and realize how #firstworldproblems it all is.

I’m just meh. The weather is getting me down, I think: it’s been dreary and overcast and drizzly for the past several days. (I wouldn’t do well in the Pacific Northwest.)

I’m also adjusting to wearing retainers full-time, and having to remove them for eating or drinking anything except water. That makes my morning coffee a bit more tedious, since I have to schlep down to the ladies’ room to remove my retainers while my Keurig is brewing. When I was wearing braces, I had to remove my elastics, sure, but I could do that surreptitiously at my desk. Not so with the retainers. I’m getting better at removing them, but I still slobber all over myself.

I’m also feeling — as usual — like I have so many things to get done, and I’m not motivated to do any of them in the hour I get after Connor goes to bed. Things I need to do, like getting the box of shit from my old desk filed into my new desk, and mending Connor’s torn pants before he grows out of them, and going through Connor’s preschool papers and projects that are languishing on the kitchen counter, and filling out some life insurance paperwork, and logging our donations to charity so we don’t have to guesstimate when tax time rolls around next year. Things I want to do, like editing together the video I took in the front garden on Monday, or ordering more prints for my photo album, or repotting some houseplants that desperately need it, or reseasoning the rest of the cast iron, or baking more muffins, or inviting people to our annual shindig that’s supposedly happening in 2½ weeks (update: did that one today).

My TeuxDeux list keeps rolling over to the next day, and over, and over, and I just can’t seem to muster up any fucks to give.

Oh, and just as I was getting excited for Spring, I had to order plant covers on Amazon for the three tomatoes I planted prematurely, since the low temps this weekend are supposed to dip near freezing. Luckily, as we approach closer to the weekend, the forecast gets increasingly less freezy, so I shouldn’t lose any plants to the cold. Hopefully.

I don’t know. I guess maybe I’m just hormonal and blah. Maybe I’m low on sunshine or exercise. All I know is that it’s really hard to break out of one of these funks — for more than a few hours at a time, anyway — and there’s no good reason I should be all funky like this. I’ve got plenty of good things going for me right now.

I haven’t really been feeling the blogging thing lately, but I can’t let a big birthday like this get too far past me without writing about it.

Actually, turning 40 was not nearly as big of a deal as turning 30 was. I had kind of a weird, hormonal, existential crisis surrounding age 30, where turning 40 felt more… Zen. I’m in the best shape of my life, physically; I feel comfortable with being myself; and most aspects of my life are stable (even my son, who is constant in his ever-changing nature).

My big present from Aaron was a new desk:

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I broke up with my hairstylist this morning.

Well, technically, we really just agreed to see other people. Our long-distance relationship just wasn’t working out for me anymore.

We were pretty serious: over seven years together, exclusive. I never saw anyone else — although I will admit I trimmed my own bangs from time to time over the years.

My first experience with Kristie was when she rescued me from a grown-out discount haircut. She earned my trust with that first haircut, after I’d lost faith in hairstylists with that K.D. Lang haircut debacle.

Once I had my son in late 2011, though, evening haircuts were no longer an option, so that meant going in before work and being her first client of the day — and she would even come in a half hour early, just for me. It was still just a ten-minute drive from my house, though. Not that big of a deal, apart from coming to work late.

Then we moved to a new house in early 2013, and my ten-minute drive to the salon became fifteen on a good day. Then the salon moved to a new location last year, in an outdoor mall south of town, and my 15-minute drive on surface streets became a 15-minute drive on the expressway plus a half hour of hanging out in the parking lot (or mall-walking), since the mall forbade them from opening before 9am (and they had to negotiate for even that early).

Meanwhile, this salon has another location only a five-minute drive down the street from my house.

I finally decided that I’d take the plunge today. I’d been meaning to break it to her the past couple of times, but I kept chickening out and just scheduling another appointment with her. As we were finishing up the last touches on my hair this morning, I finally told her I was thinking about trying out the other location, being that it’s only five minutes from my house.

She took it relatively well, and gave me three referrals at their other location, so I can have some options and see who I like the best. I gave her a 40% tip and promised to come back every now and then.

It’s seriously like breaking off a long-term romantic relationship. It’s a long-term interpersonal relationship based on trust and confidence. It feels weird to know that the next time I get my hair cut, it will be done by a complete stranger again.

But it’s good to know that, unlike most romantic breakups, Kristie will always be happy to see me again.