Tags
cleaning lady, fear of bugs, gardening, hair dye, humiliation, living on a golf course, lock-outs, manicures, neighbors, obsession, pedicures, removal of hair dye, stress, walking trails
Let me start by admitting something. I may be in need of a gardening intervention. You see, last year we moved from Pennsylvania to Texas at the very end of Spring, so I didn’t get to plant any flowers before I left.
By the time we got to West Texas, settled into our house and had time to think about the landscaping outside, all the plants at the nurseries, Lowes and Wal-Mart were pretty much slim-pickin’s. Besides, it was so hot I didn’t want to leave the sweet air-conditioning of my new home to tend to any half-dead desert plants. I bought a couple of hanging flower baskets and called it a summer.
So, that means last year I didn’t get to garden. And by gardening, I mean watering colorful flowers in decorative pots. I don’t actually want to get dirty or have to kneel down and weed anything, but I want to see pretty things in my yard so…
This year, I got a $100 gift certificate for a local nursery and couldn’t wait to spend it. I went a little crazy. By the time the whole thing was over, said and done, I think I ended up with over $250.00 worth of flowers. Ooops.
My front and back porches look very festive and delightful. I’m very excited about that. Now, if I don’t kill any of them, I’ll be happy. I’m great with houseplants, but sometimes I have a little difficulty with the outdoor variety. There are bugs out there! Every year I say I’m going to conquer my fear and maintain my own garden, but some malevolent spider, slimy worm or wicked beetle scares me back into my house where I then spend the rest of the summer admiring the flowers and waving to Chewy the Yard Guy as he tends them. This year, I will do the maintenance myself! I will! I am an optimist. Otimism and the fact that Chewy lives in Pennsylvania has me determined to make this work.
Feeling very guilty about spending sooo much money on my flower obsession, I cancelled my hair appointment today.
“I’ll color my own hair and save $75.00,” I thought.
Yeah…that’ll ease that old spending guilt.
Using my fuzzy math, I figured if I did my own hair…I was halfway to coming out even on my over-expenditure at the nursery.
So, late this morning, I set my box of hair color down on my vanity in my master bathroom feeling oh so grown-up and responsible.
How hard could this be?
Reading the instructions carefully, I began to save money. HA!
Feeling like a chemist in a lab, I set to mixing and shaking. The box even came with rubber gloves! I was feeling pretty damn professional. After very carefully following the directions, I applied the mixture to my hair.
“This is not so hard,” I thought.
Suddenly, I felt a cold, wet trickle running from my temple, down my ear and continuing down my neck.
Aaah! Don’t panic! Not a problem. I grabbed a towel. The closest towel. My strictly-for-decoration gold-fringed hand towel.
Ugh. Should not have done that.
Well, I figured, it’s ruined, so I may as well continue to use it. Next drip I felt was down my neck in the back. Quick as a flash, I grabbed my newly-stained towel to sop up the mess.
Whoops! Wrong towel. Towel number two—ruined.
Realizing my mistake, I tossed the towel onto to the counter and knocked the whole bottle of liquid hair dye onto the vanity. The bottle dropped to the floor, splashed against the wood cabinet and dumped out onto the gold bathmat before I managed to stop the worsening destruction.
Crap! Who knew tile could stain? Who knew marble countertops could stain? Who knew black dye on gold mats could look like someone had been murdered on my bathroom floor?
At this point, I forgot about my hair—I could only contemplate what chemical neutralizes hair dye and removes it from wood and tile.
Not wanting my hubby to see the bathroom devastation I’ve created, I rolled up the towels in the bathmat and hid them in the garage (to throw out later–on Trash Day) feeling like the world’s most inept criminal.
I realized the marble countertop was still stained and I wasn’t sure what might take care of that, but I came up with a genius solution to the floor.
Throw the other bathmat over the floor stain…
Perhaps, no one will ever know—until we move out, that is. Okay, maybe it wasn’t genius.
After I got everything under control and had adequately hidden my misdeeds, I piled up my hair on my head and set the timer for 40 minutes.
Now keep in mind, I’m still feeling guilty over the tropical jungle I have blooming on my porches. I mean it’s TEXAS–where the previous day’s temperature had reached 97-deegrees…and it’s ONLY APRIL!
What was I thinking?
I suddenly comprehended my costly little paradise would require more care than I probably know how to give. However, I am now resolved. I must not let them die! Think of all that money!
While I’m waiting for the last few minutes of required hair-cooking time, I decided to water the guilt-inducing plants on my back patio since they look a little wilted from yesterday’s heat.
I CANNOT LET THEM DIE!
My backyard backs up to a golf course and walking trail—a fairly busy walking/jogging trail.
I stuck my head out on the porch and looked around. No one was using the trail and I didn’t see any golfers.
Yes! I have time to water my flowers and come back in to rinse the black goo off my head.
I very stealthily made it to the water spigot, keeping my eyes out for joggers and listening for golf carts. I turned on the hose and hurried to the back porch and began watering. Everything was going as planned until I saw a black drop fall near my feet. Then another.
Drop.
Drop.
Drop.
“Oh, crap!”
I looked at my reflection in the window. I had black streaks across my cheeks and a black smear across my forehead. There’s even a black smudge over my lip from where I’d obviously rubbed my nose which made me look like I had half a Hitler mustache!
Behind me a neighbor’s dog barked making me jump. I looked down the path and noticed someone is walking their dog and coming towards my house.
It’s okay. I still have time to rush inside. I dropped the hose, and turned the handle of the French doors.
Bam! I plow face first into it.
“What the…?” There is now a black smudge on the white paint where my forehead hit the frame.
Panicked, I tried the handle again.
“OMG! No!”
*Bark! Bark!*
The dog walker is now closer! I tried the handle again. No doubt about it. It’s locked. Someone must’ve locked the doorknob lock last night!
I rushed to the side of the house, out the gate and tried the side entrance to the garage. Locked! I ran to the front, horrified that someone might see me in my Tinkerbell pajama bottoms and t-shirt sans bra!
Front door? Locked!
It’s official. I am locked out! And humiliated. And it’s starting to get hot! I wiped away the dripping black gunk with my hands and noticed my fingers were black.
Well….there goes the manicure I got a couple of days previous–totally ruined!
As I rounded the corner to hide in my backyard again, I happened to notice my cleaning lady was two doors down at my husband’s boss’s house. The way I saw it…I had no choice at that point. Maria has a key!
I thought of sticking my head under the garden hose before walking casually down the street so as not to cause any undue attention. No, I better not, I thought, it might just make the mess worse and turn my entire face black. No, better just rush over, explain the situation and rush back.
I scurried down the street—two doors down, but it felt like a mile. Luckily, no one was out (which is highly unusual for this active neighborhood.)
This could work.
Maria’s car was in the driveway. I know she’s there!
I rang the doorbell.
No answer.
I knocked— leaving a black knuckle mark on the white painted door of the boss’s pristine, beautiful home.
Crap! I used my shirt to wipe it off. Well, there goes that t-shirt anyway. Sorry, Tinkerbell.
I waited, switching my weight back and forth and peeking behind me to see if anyone is outside. It is officially HOT and I have to use the bathroom now.
Still no answer. What the heck?
Giving up, I decided to see if by some miracle my across-the-street-neighbor is home (even though I know she works Tuesdays and Thursdays).
It’s worth a shot.
Just as I crossed the street, I saw Maria step out of the house to get something from her car.
“Maria!” I yelled running back.
She did a Hollywood-worthy double-take. “Mrs. Goodfellow?”
“Uh…yeah. I’m locked out. Do you have my key with you?”
“Yes,” she says looking at me with wide, confused eyes. I’m sure she can’t fathom why I’m walking around outside looking like a squid secreted ink on my head, sporting half a mustache and wearing my pajamas near noontime. (She already thinks I’m a little flighty being that I’m always forgetting what day she’s supposed to come or forgetting to leave a check when she does. Or accidentally giving her my Pennsylvania phone number or forgetting to sign my check or….)
“I was watering and I….” I stammer.
“Is that water?” she asks. I’m sure she’s wondering if something has been lost in translation from English to Spanish.
“No, no…I was dying my hair and watering my plants and…”
“At the same time?”
“No, no…um…yes, but…do you have my key? Can I have my key?” A car was coming up the street. I was getting desperate.
“Yes,” she says. “You want me to open it for you?”
I think she realized the complexities of a lock were probably beyond my capacity at that point.
Eventually, I got into my house.
However, by then my entire skull and part of my face was dyed a nice shade of Midnight Black.
So, I did what any 21-century person would do. I got online to find out how to remove hair dye from skin. I love the internet. Just when you think you are the only person who would have black streaks dyed into your face, you find out there are many, many others out there who have done the same thing. One person asked Wiki Answers how to remove it from her legs and feet. I can only venture to guess how that…but I don’t want to ramble…
So, I pulled out my Nail Polish Remover and got to scrubbing.
It sort of worked…except…it turns out I’m allergic to it. My skin went from black to gray with tinges of bright red!
I decided the red was better than the gray or light black, so I rubbed until it was all (or most of it was )removed.
To top it all off, I looked down and my brand new bling-y flip-flops are decorated with a black splotch across the top—oh! And there goes the spa pedicure, too.
So,..in saving $75.00 doing my own hair, I managed to ruin a new manicure, a new pair of flip-flops, a bathmat, two decorative hand towels and a fresh pedicure. I’ll still wear my Tinkerbell p.j.’s so that’s a draw.
And none of that even comes close to the amount of mortification I endured and several moments of extreme stress which probably gave me gray hair…that is…gray hair underneath all that Midnight Black dye. On top of all that…the Hibiscus I bought…isn’t looking real good today. I might have to make one more trip to the nursery…but then I swear I’m done.
You have me rolling around laughing 🙂 I’ll never look at my watering hose in the same way again.
Great post, quirky and fun.
Ha! Glad you enjoyed it. This is just a day-in-the-life of me. 🙂 Thanks for reading.
Two questions: Did this REALLY happen? and most importantly, How’d your hair color turn out? This is a Lucy episode for sure, Girlfriend. All’s well that ends well. : )
YES! This really happened. Maria is my witness. My life is a Lucy Episode. 🙂
Hair color turned out a bit dark and I missed a skin stain on the back of my neck which now looks like a kidney-shaped birthmark, but hey…at least my hair didn’t fall out or turn orange.
Thank goodness Maria was around.
Another great blog post by you.
You’re not getting all prettied up because my husband’s coming to town, are you? He’s so looking forward to seeing y’all. : )
You are a great story teller! Love reading your blog.
Thanks, Janet. I’m so glad you read my blog! Makes me happy!
Only a mom who has “performed” similar stunts, but not to those extremes, will understand. Hair coloring stains on ceramic tiles in my shower stall will attest to that. 8 years later that stain is a constant reminder as to why I do not do this at home anymore. But, Kristine, this is so YOU! Lucy should have written this skit! All you needed was your pal from S.Dakota to add the humor!
Tweets
Oh my gosh! That is so funny! Thank you for the laugh. I really love reading what you write. So, so funny. This story makes me feel a little better about some of the stuff I do.
he he he…there’s plenty of “stuff I do” that should be confessed. Perhaps I shall rename the blog.
Thanks for reading, Kathy!
Wow, I never figured you colored your hair!!! 🙂 Thanks for the laugh. Never Ever try to save money by doing your own hair. Cut out other things first….
Miss you guys,
Melinda
Yeah…I’ve learned my lesson. I should’ve known me and permanent color was a baaad combination. What was I thinking?
Thanks for reading, Melinda!
OMG! I swear you must be blonde under all that dark hair! Thanks for making my weekend! I am so glad that I am not the only one who has days like this! Miss you oodles.
I think I should’ve been a blonde. Perhaps I should dye my hair…no wait. BAAAD Idea!
Thanks for reading, Liz. I miss you, too.
Just goes to show, thrift is not always a good idea…entertaining stuff, but from you I would expect no different!
Oh, yeah…my life is a sit-com. Stay tuned…
Thanks for reading, Mark. Good to “see” you in the land of the living again.
You crack me up. Now, keep in mind I have been doing my own haircolor for quite a while now…years in fact. I can tell you that the towel, shirt, shoes, stains on the face (and lest we forget the ears), back of neck, cheek, fingers, and even rug and floor are all normal. I’ll one up you on this, tile and rugs, given, but I have actually found little spatter marks on the wall and even ceiling and have absolutely no idea how they got there, What the? The reaction from my hubby is always priceless. Now consider my haircolor has a tinge of red in it. When I rinse it out in the shower (white tile no less) it looks like a scene from a Hitchcock film. BTW, Hint to keep it from staining your skin – put some of the conditioner you get in the tube around your hairline before you do the coloring.
Now to the gardening thing. Ask my friends in Tennesse, or just think back to the house in South Dakota and know that you are not the only one who starts with ambition and end up avoiding the ick factor of the bugs, slugs, and obligatory spiders that inevitably sneak under those beautiful blooms.
K
LOL – Yeah, you and are a kindred spirits, Kathy. It’s just fate that we got to live next to each other years ago. Who knows how much trouble we could get in if we still did, huh?
Thanks for reading! I appreciate your comments soooo much!
LOL…I love how a $100 gift certificate turns into $250! Way too funny!
I’m glad this year you get to really enjoy a Texas Spring!
You are HILARIOUS! ILL have to have my husband read so he knows, that, well, there is somebody out there like me….
I say move into the “other” house and “va-voom”..you do not have to live with stained floors. 😉
Cracking me up AGAIN! I literally was laughing outloud! Now I understand what happened to the nails! AND i wondered what that black smudge on my front door was! JK! Great story Kristine!
Yeah! Where were you??? LOL I needed ya!
LOL! I accidentally found you while searching for a good picture of a hibiscus. Shortly after your whole blog had me in stitches! You’re a wonderful storyteller and I very much enjoyed reading about your day to day adventures. Thanks for the laughs! Is the hibiscus still with us? 🙂
Fantastic! Glad you enjoyed it. The hibiscus is still with us…but barely. Out of three, only one has had any blooms. It certainly DOES NOT look like the picture on my blog. I went out an bought some easy-going marigolds to put in the pot so it doesn’t look so sad! Thanks for reading!!
You are so funny! This is my favorite.
It was delightful meeting you last night! I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know you a bit. After learning you were a writer I was quite intrigued… I had a hunch your writing would be hysterical…
And is it ever. I’m sitting here with my own black streaks dripping down my face from laughing myself to tears! So so funny. And so something I would do…
I hope your flowers have found a way to survive miraculously in this heat, and I’ll be sure to wave next time I pass by – as that walking trail is one of my favorites around here.