Impatience and Metro-Sexuality. Almost.

Of all my flaws, impatience is likely the worst.  It rears it's ugly head at the most detrimental times.

Case in point - last night.  

I decided that I was bored with the plain locks atop my head and resolved to do something to liven them up.  I'd been debating for a while whether to chop them or grow them out.  I opted for the grow-out, because there are only so many years left in which I'll be able to get away with long hair; may as well make the most of them.

The only choice left was color change of some sort.

So I took my boring head out to the local discount store and picked up a box of do-it-yourself highlights.  Why would I do such a thing?

Because of the impatience.  

Once an idea is concocted in my brain, it must be carried out, post haste.  It was 8:00, and all the beauty salons were closed, so professional help was not available.  (Not that I would have used it, because I'm still terrified of going near a hair salon in Utah.)

I brought the box home and put on the little cap and began to pull strands of hair through the holes...  And then I realized that I would not be able to see the back or sides of my head in order to pull hair through those holes.

This is what we refer to as being "in a pickle".

I came out to the living room, where my dear husband was watching football in a very manly fashion.  I smiled at him and cooed, "Honey???"

He looked at me, holding out my little crochet hook tool, and said, "No way."

So thirty seconds later I was sitting in front of his manly recliner while he attempted to pull bits of my hair through the highlighting cap.

And all the while he muttered, "If you blog about this, I'll kill you."

(Grin)

And then, when I told Cameron to take a picture, Andrew got really ticked...

But even though he acted all miffed about having to perform girly tasks, I was really glad that he was man enough to help me out of my impatient pickle.