"i like your hair that way" (m)

Got home from Vermont last evening after a grueling five-hour drive in the pouring--at times almost blinding--rain.

Unpacked the car with Harrison and started a laundry.  He tells me that his school friends are coming over in thirty minutes to gather before they head out to the Homecoming Dance at school.  They are to wear costumes and, by the way, what will we serve them for dinner?   My mother has been at my house all day and is grumbling about why my house has to be Grand Central for everyone.  I'm looking around for Allan Funt and Candid Camera because this has to be some set-up for someone else's amusement.

We order pizza for the kids, they get in their attire (the three boys are Gladiators; the girls are Ninjas) and we get them off to school.   I'm ready for either the Betty Ford Clinic or my couch at this point.

My husband tells me that he wants us to go out since we've been like ships passing in the night all week.  That would mean dinner at 9 p.m. which is fine if you live in Spain but we do not.

I agree to go.  I am more tired than hungry.  I order some fish and steamed broccoli and eat half.  My husband is making small talk and my ears perk up when he says: "I like your hair that way."  Now, I've been wearing my hair the same way for a few years.  My head turns around like Linda Blair in the Exorcist.  "What are you talking about?  I haven't changed my hairstyle."  Then he says: "Mmm...well it looks different".

My husband is very intelligent but details are not his thing.  He once left the front door to our house OPEN all night long (we live in a heavily wooded area--it's a wonder the coyotes didn't get us) and, often, mail comes back to our house where he addresses letters to himself and puts the recipient's name in the return address section. When the boys were babies, I lived in fear that he would leave them in their car seats on the roof of the car while he unlocked the door and then drive off.

By 11:30, I'm finally in bed and looking forward to my first good night's sleep in four days.  My husband walks by the dresser with the photos on it and says:  "You know, it's NOT your hair that's different!  It's your face!   It looks more like it was in this picture!"  It's a picture of me and a friend from college, circa 1979.

I slept like a baby.....that is,until my friend, Susan, woke me up to watch a Sunday morning show about obesity.