I would rather have a nod from an American, than a snuff-box from an emperor. ~Lord Byron
If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
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For the record, my hair has now grown out to the point that it's reasonably presentable, and I don't feel bad walking down the street. The layers are not yet gone... it will be several months before I can get them cut back out, but now there's enough weight, even on the top layer, that it lays reasonably neatly over my head. Today is a little bit warm, and a little bit humid, so of course, I have two choices: Frizz or curls. I chose curls, which means there are now enough chemicals on my head to start a major warehouse fire.
So, assuming that I manage to get through the next ten days without doing anything outrageous, I will look presentable for the first day of class. I know that's a little unlikely. Last night, I was sitting, watching TV and not doing anything useful to occupy my hands, so, I wound up doodling. Still haven't gotten all the ink off my arm, again.
I will not experiment with new hair cuts, new hair colors, fingernail polish, or henna for the next two weeks. I will wear an apron, when I paint. I will avoid any and all sources of poison ivy and/or insect bites. I will not run with sizzors or other sharp objects.
And I will plan my wardrobe carefully, to avoid getting to class and realizing that I'm still wearing my pajammas, or worse--any variation of political T-shirt which might disincline professor with a personality from letting me take his class.
No, really. It should be fine.

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