I thought for sure I'd have a doozy of a story for you today, but what promised to be a traumatic/hilarious/head-shaking event turned out to be therapeutic/straightforward/ordinary.
On the agenda was a trip to the salon. It was time to get a hair cut. Yes, I see you rolling your eyes; you've read this, and this, and this. Nothing ludicrous or frustrating happened. It was smooth sailing, and here I sit, three inches shorter than this morning, ready for summer. Delightful, really, but as I didn't come out looking like the Cookie Monster, there's no story for you today.