I’m mrs hardly & I’m cheap.

Of course I didn’t consider the possibility that having a job that involves minimal actual work could make the day drag and drag and drag so that it feels like 4pm at 11am.

I’m awfully tired – funny how doing pointless busy work can do that to you.

I really need to stop being such a tight-arse when it comes to things for myself. Case in point – my hair. Now I have no problem with Bess & Nancy venturing off to trendy salons for $50-$100 haircuts, in fact it is something I actively encourage! But me, well, for the past few years, I’ve usually just rocked on up to just cuts & sometimes (admittedly rarely) I actually end up with a good hair cut, but mostly just end up with a quite average haircut. Today I moseyed on up after work because the ‘do was getting a little straggly. The stylist, a lovely dutch girl, was snipping away and asked who the fuck butchered my hair (well, to be honest, those were not the exact words she used, but that was the essence). Yes, I thought, I *was* butchered.

So no more dicing with cheap and nasty hairdressing (will I score the good hairdresser or the butcher?), I *will* find a proper hair stylist who will not butcher me & I *will* go and see them regularly (yes, I know and you know that I will probably end up on just cuts’ doorstep in two months because I want a hair cut now.

I do the same with clothes and shoes and jewellery. I think this must be some carry over from when fenton and I were living in abject poverty (or some other psychological thing/s or both). But we are not poverty-stricken now, so damn it all, I will make myself spend money on nice things for me.

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