LATELY, I’ve been running into the same remark that brings attention to something I would not have otherwise noticed.  Not on my naturally rustic… understated beauty, nor my deeply reflective overstated fashion.  But, people have been saying to me that they didn’t realize – shit, even I didn’t realize – that my hair has grown, ungovernably… looooong.  Yes, yes they are loooong.  Not prince-bait-golden-Rapenzul long, or mysterious-darkness-of-the-night-Pantene-commercial long, but like, waist-deep-Gandalf-gone-Where-The-Wild-Things-Are long.  Staring at my almost-fire-hazardous self in the mirror, I have come to the unlikely yet true explanation for such disregard …

Simply, I don’t have time for hair-salon.

Madness!  What have I – a mid-30 unemployed female who doesn’t believe in happiness before 1 PM because that’s evidently sleep-deprived illusions – any excuses to look like a historical ruin?  Upon the horrid awakening, I was forced into re-examining, what exactly, consumed my otherwise abundant span of the day.  Then, I realized they are all utterly meaningless, yet indispensable, segments of tasks.