So on Monday morning, when I was suppsoed to be working, my head got to itching. And not the usual, I got to scratch my head itch. It was more like something foreign is crawling in my hair itch. So, after repeated trips to the bathroom, where I examined my head as closely as one can in a dim light, I found one. A small, many legged thing, making itself at home in my nice thick, dark hair.
Yep. Freaked out. Completely.
Here is what I did. I left the bathroom and told my coworkers that I was leaving. RIGHT NOW. I send a quick email to my boss saying why I was leaving, and high tailed it back home where I went to buy some nuclear shampoo to blast the little bugs off my head.
I opted for the extra strength, no holds barred, nobody is left alive version called Resultz. And I better get some, ’cause this is what was on my head:
About fifteen of them. Ugh. Now my husband has to be the one who picks the nits out of my head, and because I am so paranoid about it, the slight breeze through my hair can cause me to panic which means I force him to go through my hair at least twice in a day with the fine tooth comb.
So here is to my husband, who is sticking to that “for better or for worse” clause of marriage. Who knew it meant patiently picking bugs out of your spouse’s hair?
On the up side though, I did get an impromptu vacation…