Cowboy With Scissors

My life is a series of routines to keep me grounded. The pool was closed for two days coinciding with my energy shift. "I'm good with it," I tried to convince myself. I was wide awake at 3:15 AM for the past two nights and getting a second wind each evening.

Today I am starting to fray. When I opened my spiral spittoon notebook I saw the last entry was Wednesday. Today is Sunday! Time has disappeared. This is another sign of transmit-energy kicking in. Time never vanishes in receive-mode.

I woke up early and started cutting off even more of my very short hair. Cutting hair is fun. I did it by "feel." Especially in the back where I couldn't see. "You cut a few spots a little close back there, but it just looks like more silver hair," my husband said gently.
"Oh well, it will grow back," I said. "I wear a big straw hat in the summer anyway." I guess sooner or later I was going to have to test the boundaries and learn my lesson.

I showed my hair to my friend Sylvia who was a hair stylist years ago. "Don't you love the feel of cutting hair?" she asked.
"Yes!" I said, feeling like an addict. "I'd better hide the scissors!"

And now it's something to write about.