I bent over to pick up my pillow. For some reason (insert Stella here), it ends up on the floor almost every night. I grabbed it and my head began to seriously pound. I quickly sat down on my bed. The room was not exactly doing the “drunk spin”, but I felt better sitting down. Crap.
I tried to remember…did I take 2 aspirin before I went to sleep last night? Because if I did, I should not have such a bad hangover headache. This was a classic hangover prevention trick that one of the older reporters had shared with me one morning when I was miserable from a night of partying and he was not. He swore by it and it actually worked…that is, when I remembered to take the damn pills.
“Maybe I have the flu. I muttered hopefully. “Jeez. Who hopes for the flu? Someone who drinks much too much, that’s who.” I sadly answered.
“You are so pathetic,” Stella said as she jumped up on my bed. “The flu. Indeed.”
“You could be more sympathetic,” I challenged her. “I take such good care of you. And you are one of my best friends.”
“One of…? Well, that’s nice. I love…being qualified.”
I patted the little bit of golden hair on Stella’s head and then turned to look at my new hair cut in the mirror. Back in the 60’s there was a geometric hair style called a “Sassoon” after Vidal Sassoon, the stylist who had created it. Very short hair with sharp V sideburns and 2 deep V’s cut in the back. Very radical back then and of course every one loved it. And it seemed that it was coming back.
My favorite stylist, Seth, who has been cutting my hair for about 4 years, was not taking no for an answer. I was getting this new cut. I apparently had just perfect “little sticky-out ears” that would look so awesome with this new cut.
“Fine.” You just can’t argue with Seth.
Seth was cute and very persuasive. And I loved him dearly. Too bad he played for the same team.
I guess if a stranger were to look at me, their first impression might be, “Hey, she’s cute! She looks like Anne Hathaway playing Audrey Hepburn.” I was okay with that.
I heard the back door screen bang and almost felt the blast of freezing air that came blowing in when Abby opened the inside door.
“I have breakfast!” Abby yelled from the kitchen.
Stella’s ears shot straight up at the word “breakfast” and she jumped off the bed and raced through my bedroom door.
“You just ate! You’re going to get so fat! I softly hollered after her.
“I have a speedy metabolism,” she shot back as she rounded the hallway corner into the dining room.