The only way out is through

Yesterday I was having a fabulous hair day, which is not something that happens frequently at the best of times, and especially not when it’s T-3 days until my appointment at the hair salon.  Generally, at this time in my hair cycle, my hair resembles a cross between straw and the fur on the old grey mare eating said straw.  But yesterday, due to some random act of kindness from the universe, my hair was soft and bouncy and wavy in all the right ways.

I tell you, I felt like I had it going on, even though it was kind of a wasted good hair day.  I was only planning on writing and cooking the whole day, and except for my usual drives to the school and dog walking, I wasn’t going anywhere or seeing anyone.  Nonetheless, I felt fine and saucy with my excellent hair and my giant woolly sweater and my long winter coat, because it is COLD here. 

I always feel better if I’m looking well.  It’s the reason I do my hair and makeup every morning and put on a cute outfit, because it is a slippery slope when one is a stay-at-home mom.  It’s a slippery slope to sweatpants and ballcaps and running shoes.  Rightly or wrongly, I feel like if I look good, then I can face the day with confidence, and so I slicked on some lipgloss, pulled on my tall winter boots (did I mention it’s really, really cold?) and headed to the dog park with Barkley.

Ah, Barkley.  Barkley my sweet, cuddly dog who looks like a Gund, a soft and huggable stuffed animal.  My adorable ball of fur.  My fluffy friend.  I’m guessing that, perhaps, a mouse had found its way into our yard.  Perhaps due to the recent warm day and subsequent cold snap, this mouse may not have been as quick on the draw as mice usually are.  In any case, the mouse ended up meeting its maker.  Barkley acted on his superior position in the food chain; the circle of life, enacted in my backyard.

How do I know this?  Because, at the dog park, the mouse got stuck on the way out.  The way out, after being digested.  And I, I was the only one who was able to help.  I had that terrifying realization that all the responsible adults are gone, no, wait, I am the responsible adult.  There is no one else.  IT’S ON ME TO SOLVE THIS.

And I will confess to you that I hesitated, wondering if perhaps the universe wouldn’t solve this itself.  The universe that had blessed me with such a fabulous hair day with only three days to go until my hair appointment.  If we were in the wild, if Barkley wasn’t some pampered and beloved pet but an animal fending for himself to survive, wouldn’t there be some natural solution?  Save yourselves! 

No.  I realized, philosophically, that the only way out was through, so to speak, and I fashioned a glove out of one of the little blue bags I keep in my coat pocket.  I solved the problem and then I looked at his cute, fuzzy, brown face and briefly hated him and his carnivorous ways. 

And just like that, the universe was back in balance.


  1. Oh, BARKLEY. Nonono. If you can’t chew it up and digest it, my friend, don’t eat it.


    Also, if that picture is from yesterday, I will stop complaining about the late spring post-haste. At least all of our snow is gone.

    • The picture is not from yesterday, I think I took it in November. Unfortunately, it looks EXACTLY THE SAME. April = November, apparently. The woolly mammoths are coming ANY MINUTE.

  2. My dog catches birds. He will sit at the bird feeder and time their landings. He’s such an asshole.
    I just got my hair done. The grey was out of control.
    I totally do what you do. My grandma always told me to dress and do your hair and make up because you never know who you will run into. …. it’s kind of funny because I have been a hermit for a few days now. But a fabulous looking one

  3. AGH! Of course, this anecdote is further anecdotal evidence supporting my assertion that good hair days are inversely proportional to the number of people who will see you, but directly proportional to the number of things that will happen to screw up your hair.

  4. UGH! This post made me shudder. There are times when I sincerely hate the realization that I am the responsible adult in the situation. Wah!

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  6. Ewwww. Was he appreciative of the help?


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