S#@t’s Gettin’ Real, Here

It started with my roots.

They’re getting a little…sparkly…(refusing to use the word grey)…

I texted my hairdresser to get this shit taken care of.

She gave me her available times.

 

Which made me think about my available times.

 

Of which there are VIRTUALLY NONE.

 

I went through each day.  And every one of them, between now and the 25th, has something going on.  Kids, practices, work, concerts, gatherings.  Somehow, within that mess, I need to get my kids presentable, clean the house in a more serious fashion than just moving piles of crap from A to B,  and buy the man friend the perfect gift that shows him exactly how much he means to me and that he’ll never forget and that has flashing lights and firepower and is on sale.

 

I knew I had all of that to do.  I really did.  But today was the day when it took on a framework, and became quantifiable, and hit me in the solar plexus.

 

Shit’s gettin’ real, here.

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