Next Thursday they’re replacing the building’s driveway. Unfortunately they’re not arranging for a drivable ramp until MONDAY NIGHT. This means that I either have to take my car out and put it on the street — which I’d be somewhat open to, if only I wouldn’t probably have to park five blocks away and keep moving it on Saturday, since I don’t have an area parking permit — or else leave it in the garage for five days. Three of those days I work.
This means getting up earlier (and oh Lord, how I wish I were a garden-variety non-morning person, not a non-morning person in the manner of a depressed teenager) and schlepping the mile to BART. And then it means when I finally get back to town after nine hours, schlepping home in the heat. I will get home with my lower back in a knot, drenched with sweat, twenty minutes later than normal. I haz a sad.
It also means no big shopping. I can run over across the street for small stuff, but that store carries little in the way of non-food items and the stuff it does have is terribly expensive. So I just spent a bunch of money at Nob Hill buying things like cat litter and toilet paper and the like.
In the plus column, it also means that except for Saturday night when I’m going to the theatre with my sister and niece (and someone else will need to drive to BART), I have an excuse to run no major errands!
Today I did run around quite a bit, in addition to the OMG Five Days Without a Car Whatever Will I Do shopping trip. I went and got my hair cut at a nice salon on College — it’s been years since I’ve had a good haircut. For several years I didn’t cut my hair at all until it was a mass of wild curls down my back. When that got too heavy and hot (and unkempt looking — only certain people can handle wild hair and not look slovenly), I just had it cut at SuperCuts type places. And once I just lopped a couple inches off my ponytail myself.
But today I went here and had a lovely time. They offer you coffee, tea, sparkling water; the chairs massage you during your shampoo (and it’s been so long since I’ve even had my hair shampooed before cut!) and she spent an hour on it, unlike the fifteen SuperCuts minutes. (Not knocking SC really — they did an adequate job and cost me $15. Curly hair hides a lot of mistakes or “eh” cuts.) I brought her this picture;
If only I actually looked like her. At least our hair color is pretty close.
And that’s more or less what she did; my hair was left a little longer; it had been brushing the tops of my shoulders and now it’s just a little bit off them. I also bought the creamy quasi-mousse she used in my hair. It really didn’t give the crunch of my gel, and I was running out of that anyway.
Then I walked across the way and got a cafe au lait and sat and read for awhile, practicing my Solitude in Eateries for vacation. Then to the Salvation Army, my mailbox, and the grocery store.
When I got home I put on sunscreen and sat on the balcony for awhile to get some sun on my hair. Now bits that haven’t had any sun are showing and they’re much darker/browner than the auburn that’s seen the light. And I knitted on a sock swatch. I am such a loose knitter that socks that call for 2s I knit on 0s. I’m using a set right now to see what my gauge really is with Opal. I just want to knit some vanilla socks with the small collection of patterned yarn I have and I can do a sock recipe if I know the gauge. I am usually crap at gauge-measuring. I think because of my eye muscle problems, when I try to count the little row of tiny Vs, they jump around like an Escher print to me. I’m going to use my reading glasses, magnifying glass, and Ott lite (or bright sun) when I get to it. And I’m going to do it right and knit a large-ish expanse instead of giving up with a small strip, which is so tempting to do when swatching in the round — basically doubling your work.
But it will be worth probably five pairs of footie socks, so there you go.
Tonight it’s “watch a movie and do laundry” night. I bought some Port Salut and dill Havarti at the store, with some Rosenblum Syrah and some water crackers — that plus grapes will be a decadent hot summer’s night dinner. And then I will work on my Fruit Stripes scarf. I have been neglecting the French, and I leave in four-ish weeks, so I think I’m screwed on that front. Ah bien, les français parlent bien anglais, souvent. Leur anglais, c’est meilleur que mon français. Et, je puis parle assez pour mes fins — pour commander au restaurant, par exemple.
(That was one of those things that, if I’d read, I would have read without hesitation. It took a little work to write it myself. Sigh. Although I am pretty happy that my reading comprehension has increased. I just have a problem with small words. My mind wants to slip over them but they’re important!)
Laundry now. Whee.