I shower. I wash my hair. I wrap my head in towel for as long as it takes for it to decide to fall
off, which is usually about the time that I pick up my fourth article of clothing or try to find my glasses.
I go back to the computer and finish looking up the MSDS for the various chemicals I'm going to be using in lab today. (one of them is pyrophoric, and we all remember Brad's sage advice* regarding those...)
I wander into bathroom to brush hair before constructing food. glance in mirror. buh? usually my hair has gone mildly sproingy because of the lovely humidity of the recent shower, and when I brush it it de-sproingifies.
not this time. this time, one big chunk of hair has stubbornly decided it wants to channel shirley temple's evil darkhaired twin.
see?(excuse the clouds, and the apparent gaping hole where my thyroid should be. I'm playing with iPhoto. or photo booth. or whatever it is.)
very stubbornly. I've brushed it multiple times. still ringlet. it looks decidedly odd with the rest of the still-damp-so-now-actually-very-straight hair.
as with the other Marit-versus-The Hair escapades, though, I've given up. it wins.
*"it's pyrophoric**, which means that if you drop it, it's a bomb. some of you are going to be synthetic chemists, and eventually during your career you will drop things. y'sorta play hackysack with it for awhile and if you think you're going to drop it, you run.
**pyrophoric = extremely flammable when exposed to air. whee!