The carpenter never showed today. I finally got him on his cell and he hemmed and hawed and "uhhhhed" a whole lot, but never offered an excuse. It was a freaking gorgeous day. I imagine he got an outdoor gig that was more interesting than the mouse hole-a-rama in my kitchen. I pretty much read him the riot act, pointed out that he was f-ing up my vacation (since I didn't go to the shore, I would have LOVED to be able to sleep in tomorrow) and that his woodworking ass better be at my home tomorrow morning. He has promised to be here at 9:30 tomorrow. We shall see.
Once I exorcised my kitchen demons and moved some more furniture, I headed up the Pike for a haircut. There was only one stylist at the King Farm Hair Cuttery when I got there, and my heart sank when I saw it was a very shy woman with uncertain English skills. So many language barriers, so many bad haircuts in my past... But today, I decided to go for it. Turns out, it went pretty well. I got a deep heat conditioning treatment done because my poor hair is so whacked out dry and frizzy from dye and the chemo drug. My stylist even gave me a killer scalp massage (at which point I almost fell asleep in the chair.) And the cut? Well, heck, you know when you're just asking for an inch of dry split ends to be chopped off, you can't do much harm.
But over the course of the slow cut, I found out that my stylist was from Bangkok. She brightened considerably when I told her I'd been to Thailand several times, and we exchanged stories about our favorite markets in the capital city and she laughed about my experiences with lip-numbing Thai peppers. (Hint to the farang: if that pepper is a cheerful pineapple yellow, it's going to numb your face like Novocaine from Hell.) When I left her chair, I thanked Li in Thai, "Kaap khun kha," and pressed my hands together in a wai. She offered me a wai in return and smiled all the way up to the register. When she handed me my bill, it was only $14 - she didn't charge me the extra $10 for long hair (which is a load of crap anyway if you're just getting the ends trimmed) and didn't charge me for the conditioning treatment. I started to say something about the undercharge, and she stopped me. "Mai pen rai," she said. "Never mind. It's okay."
I've just been quietly futzing around with things at home tonight. Sorting, tossing, organizing. I'm enjoying the silence.
Tomorrow, Romeo *will* come (or there will be hell to pay) and then I'll go to my bank to file the notarized documents to get my stolen $$ back. What a pain in the patoot.
But at least my hair looks fabulous.