I Feel Pretty, Oh, So Doggone Pretty

You know how sometimes a day just gets off to a weird start? Today was like that.

I'm pretty basic--not a lot of frills. I wash my hair every morning. Instead of using the blow dryer, I comb my short hair out and let it air dry. It's naturally wavy so it curls, and then I just finger comb it the rest of the day. I don't even carry a comb in my purse (actually, I don't even carry a purse).

Yesterday morning I'd put my bathroom comb into my carry-all bag so I could actually comb my hair before getting up in front of an audience last night. When I got out of the shower this morning, no comb.

I'd been so tired last night, I'd left the carry-all bag (with comb) in the car. My choices this morning were to go out to the car in the driveway wrapped in a large towel, or to locate another comb somewhere in the house. As much as my neighbor Gary might appreciate the towel dash, I decided to look around for another comb.

Remember--I've told you I'm pretty impatient. I opened four or five drawers in my bath and in the hall bath. On about the fifth drawer, I found the pet grooming stuff. There, right on top was a brand new flea comb (with the tag still on) that I'd purchased for my border collie Lucy before she went on to that Great Fire Hydrant in the sky.

Don't make a face like that. It had teeth, didn't it? Teeny, tiny fine teeth.

In fact, the flea comb (with a real imitation leather handle) did such a great job that it's my new hair drying comb (until the nearest and dearest sees it anyway).

For those of you who might be reading this blog for the first time, I figured you might as well know what it's really like around here.

Back to business.