Unbelievable - that's the only way today can be described - and it's not even over yet! Today was the kids' Interschool cross country competition, which meant a trip to the city. I decided to make the most of the outing and get my hair cut at the same time. I hate getting my hair cut. I haven't had a decent hairstyle in about 14 years - my current look is more Springer Spaniel than Vidal Sassoon. It doesn't seem to matter how much I pay, or where I go, the result is still the same, so I try to leave it as long as possible between visits, by which time I usually resemble a walking toilet brush. Anyway, having been recommended a salon by a trusted friend, I tootled off, eagerly anticipating my new look. OK, so it wasn't exactly an economical choice of salon, but at least I could be fairly confident that I wouldn't be walking out at the end of it with one side of my hair several inches shorter than the other - which is what happened with my last $16 budget chop!
Having survived my haircut and feeling quite happy with the result, I swanned off back to my car. Which was just heading out of the car park on the back of a tow truck. I managed to flag down the driver (who was perspiring heavily having just maneuvered my 4WD on to the back of his truck and was by no means pleased to see a stylishly coiffured moi demanding that he take it off again so soon). He told me that in order to get my car back, I had to hand over $60. Apparently, I had got away rather lightly, as if I had been 30 seconds later, I would have had to somehow get myself across the other side of the city and part with $160 at the yard! Unfortunately, he would only accept cash, not the cheque book I was waving around. I had no choice but to run down the road and beg no less than five stores to cash me a cheque for $60. As I returned to triumphantly hand over the cash, I was accosted my a smug looking stick insect, who told me that she had dobbed me in for parking in a space that belonged to Harrison Grier clients only. Typical - how could I argue my case with a stick insect lawyer?
Drama over with and back on the road, I remembered to stop in at Woolworth's to pick up a few bits for mother. As I meandered through the aisles, I couldn't help noticing that I had somehow caught the eye of a rather nice looking young man. It didn't matter where I went, wherever I turned, he was staring at me intently. Must be the new hairstyle I thought to myself, and returned his gaze, convinced that we had shared a 'moment'. I returned to my car, congratulating myself inwardly on still having 'pulling power', even as a long-married mother of two, and as I looked down to unlock my vehicle, it was then that I realized what the charming young man had been staring at. I had been wearing a new jumper, which I loved - a comfy, chocolate coloured angora V-neck - you know, one of those 'sloppy' ones which just feels right? During its first public outing, the 'V' of my jumper had somehow worked its way down to my navel and I had been walking around with half my bra exposed to the entire population of Woolworth's. Worse still, it was hardly a glamorous Elle McPherson job either; it was my trusty worn-to-death off white sports bra with red and blue racing stripes. A perfect end to my visit to the big smoke!
Total spends for day:
Petrol to get to city: $50
Haircut - $60
Tow truck driver - $60
Exposing underwear to hapless shoppers - Priceless
