A Grey Hair in a Dark Bathroom

After a few whiskey-gingers drunken at lightening speed, anyone would be prone to seeing things and overreacting.


Saturday night. Bonerama.

Saturday night. Bonerama.

On this past weekend off, I got to do things that normal people do on weekends. I saw my partner. We saw an old friend, went to a show, got a couple drinks and dinner, went to bed. Sunday we slept in for the first time in months. We breakfast’d, then brunch’d. We watched House of Cards. We went shopping to REI to get some bike and camping gear. Very low stress, very relaxing. I let him go home to sleep for the next day so that I can meet up with my fellow-nurse roommate, Michelle. We obviously plan on raging on a Sunday night.

So I’ve just gotten out of the bathroom stall when I see it from a distance in the mirror. No. It can’t be. Alarmed, I search through every strand of my pixie-cut hair to find the culprit. I pinpoint it, set it apart, acknowledge that it’s not just the bright bathroom lighting, but that I do indeed have a grey hair.

run up the bar stairs and interrupt the conversation Michelle is having to make her search my hair. But no, she can’t see anything in the dim bar, and I know I’m overreacting.

A few days later at work, I find it once more. Again I’m the bathroom, but it’s the exact same strand of grey hair shining apart out of the black. I wash my hands as fast as is legal and find a coworker to search my hair. As she digs through the strands in the front of my head opposite my part, I’m slightly embarrassed that I’m making her examine my dirty, dandruff-laden locks for something that she will probably not find. I give up again.

In my mind, there is absolutely no reason I should have a grey hair. I’m not stressed, right? I’m not the kind of person who stresses!

Am I?

Until yesterday, I had felt absolutely no stress in leaving my partner, family, friends, home, work, and routine for six months just to dick around in randomly chosen segments of the United States via bike. All of the sudden it seems like I have an exorbitant amount of shit-to-do. So I talked it out with Chris, word vomited about my stresses for about 15 minutes, then got to work, had some coffee, and made the Truly Ultimate To-Do List for the next few weeks. I have not been this organized since college. (I should mention that nothing in my life has required organizing since college.) This should put me out on top of my life until…well until my life looses any semblance of logic, organization, or “to-do” structure.

Ignore that it's the second draft...

Ignore that it’s the second draft…

The Beginning is Near

The Beginning is Near


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