This actually happened a couple of days ago, but I never got around to divulging ...
A friend was recently explaining to me the virtues of the product he uses to keep his hair in order, and his hair is rather impressively well-kept, so I listened. I've been using cheap gel for a long time, and I figured it was time for something new, so while at the grocery store, I perused the hair-care section and decided on Dax, a petroleum-based pomade with instructions to apply liberaly and comb out excess. This is not the product he had been espousing, but that didn't matter; it was more the novelty of something new and different that motivated me. It comes in a little red can, and it reminded me of the Dapper Dan so prominently featured in "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" Surely, with a little work, I can have hair just like George Clooney, no? The next morning, I followed the directions with implicit trust ... only to find my hair a thick, gnarly mass impervious to the guidance of brush, comb, or even fingers.
I tried several bouts of shampoo, then dish soap, then kitchen degreaser, to no avail. I was now running late for work, and left my manager a message indicating that I'd had a small accident, and would explain later. I retured to the grocery store (wearing my stylish derby, naturally), but discovered no product designed to help. On another can of Dax, however, I found instructions (which were not on my can) to use vegetable oil shampoo. After a futile trip to Rite-Aid to locate such an elixir, I returned home empty handed. Not to be outdone, I pulled out the ol' bottle of Crisco and went to town. When mixed with the shampoo and used several times, this did the trick. I succeeded in restoring semi-normalcy, albeit at the cost of much hair, time, and pride, and arrived at work an hour and a half late, to the joy of explaining it all to my manager and anyone else standing around. I have since been honored by the name Slick.
Why do I share this? I don't know; glutton for punishment I guess. Good night.
I'm terrible at staying in touch. I know it's a pretty common affliction, but that doesn't make it ok. I did make some overdue calls the past couple of days, and received a couple too. It's refreshing to catch up with old friends, but I find that without shared activities it's sometimes hard to find new things to talk about, conversations routinely meandering back to the usual haunts. Perhaps the most difficult thing for me, though, is a reawakened feeling of displacement. I adapt well, I'm happy where I am, and yet, I can't help but notice that after a year here, all my best friends are still thousands of miles away. Maybe I'm not as adaptable as I thought.
My red eyes are squinting repeatedly, and it's taking way too long to type this ... but in the spirit of a conversation earlier today, I'll toss on a smile and oddly enough, any fleeting concerns will get right back to fleeting.