So this weekend wasn't particularly perfect, as you might've figured out from yesterday's post. (Yep, there was one...so go check it out if you didn't already see it.) In addition, there was this: I was supposed to get my hair done on Saturday. But I didn't. Wanna know why? Ok!
Back when I got married, I told the salon to go ahead and change my name in the system to my new married name. They did that, and there hasn't been any problem since then, really, until this weekend. I guess there was another person in the system with my exact same name. She'd been to the salon once before...for a massage in December. Yeah, they called HER on Friday to remind her of her hair appointment on Saturday with my hairdresser, and she was all, "Um, I don't have an appointment tomorrow."
So they fucking cancelled it!
I guess they have a new dude working there. He seemed nice enough to me. He was the one that booked my appointment the last time I was in to get it colored. He was also the one that pulled up the wrong record under the wrong person, and booked her for a color and highlights on Saturday.
I don't like the new guy any more.
Now my hair looks like ultimate SHIT, and I have to go in on Wednesday night to get it done. (Bless my hairdresser's heart...she's staying late to help me out!)
This doesn't help my week any. This is the week we start framing the new addition. The week the walls come down. The week that our life turns into a life similar to that experienced in the Money Pit. (I actually have started imagining scenarios like the one where Shelly Long's character opens the medicine cabinet in the morning to get some antacid and finds herself face to face with a construction dude. Then he tells her that she's almost out of birth control pills.) I'm already stressed, and we have to check into a hotel tomorrow. Now I can't check in (no time...I have to run straight from work to my hair appointment), and Leo isn't feeling comfortable with checking in for us, for some insane reason. I had a mini blow-up yesterday when he got home from work and told him that I really need him to get on board. For the love of all things holy, I'm gonna lose it if he doesn't stop complaining about not being able to eat his oatmeal while we're living at the hotel this week. (No microwave in the room.)
The rooms look so horribly terrible, too. God, I feel just awful making him stay here! I really should get him a present to make it up to him.
Maybe a new bathroom with a walk-in closet and moving the washer and dryer in the house will make him happy again?
Sorry...sorry....I needed to vent a bit, it seems. Now I need to go figure out how badly I fucked up my boss's expenses last week when I tried to enter them, and it didn't work. *sigh!* (Yeah, there'll be lots of sighing over the next few weeks, I'd imagine. Better get used to it.)