Yesterday was just about the longest day of work ever. It was a 10-6 shift which is normally quite do-able (albeit blended with my normal amount of whinging), but yesterday just crawled and crawled.
But worse than that... I found a grey hair yesterday morning. It was the length of a regular hair. I cried.
Yes, I am that lame. It was a really freaky experience for me. I've glimpsed something in that section of hair for a few weeks now when I've been blowdrying, but after spending 20 minutes each time searching and finding nothing, I decided that it was a reflection from the sun or something.
I found it, called it a terrible name, then promptly removed it. How do you like me now, hair? You can tell any of your little friends the fate that awaits them if they decide to become squatters on my scalp.
I called my grandma - no sympathy there. She suggested that if I was so worried I should dye my hair. Erm, no. Firstly, I like my boring-as-hell hair colour. Secondly, once you colour your hair you have to maintain it. I'm pretty sure my hair is only now fully my own colour, having grown out of those random colours I used to strangle it with. (I still can't believe how much I used to love having bright red streaks! And how much I used to spend on maintaining the ridiculous bright red streaks.)
Meanwhile, I've been doing no uni work at all. It's all too much! Also, one of the girls gave me this series to read - The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare. They're so ridiculously addictive. I finished the second book last night and have decided that I can't start the third book until I finish at least one uni assignment. I hate punishing myself like this. Who actually wins? No one. I don't get to read the book I want to, my uni work doesn't get done either because I feel like I need to punish my work because it's not letting me have the fun I want... Yes, there's something not right with my brain.
I was reading an article in Cleo this morning (you know, the hard hitting stuff) and it was one of those "real life reads" about this girl who married her cousin. Um. Gross. Ew. I just don't get it at all. But it reminded me of this conversation at my nan's house the last time I was there. Our cousins came and visited us and were having morning tea. These cousins are my grandma's nephew, S, and niece-in-law, P, so that makes them my 2nd cousins? Removed? I don't know how it works. Anyway, I'd recently found out that these two are related sort-of. Not by blood, but by marriage... other than their own. Anyway, it's complicated, and whilst they aren't related by blood, I still think it's weird because he is related to P's sister by blood. Make sense? No? Who cares.
Anyway, P was mentioning that her daughter said she saw Daniel at some concert and how well they all get along, blah blah. Then she said, "I always thought Dan and my daughter would end up together, they're such great friends and would be good together." Her daughter being my cousin. I wasn't in the room but my sister was and quickly ran to tell me, where we proceeded to gag and laugh at the same time, all the while feeling dirty inside. It was good fun telling Daniel. He needed to shower after he heard it. EWwwwwwww. I don't know how other families operate, but in ours, family is family is family. It doesn't matter if you're a distant relative or if you haven't met us or if you're married into the family, it's all the same.
So yeah. I just thought it was hillarious and incredibly disturbing. And then I was like, "Ew. Does that mean I have to marry her loser son?" We've decided that Mary can marry Jonas and start a new breed of five headed babies.