Today my housemate is heading for the mountains and Rick isn't due back until tomorrow. My roots say it is time to color my hair if you believe in talking hair roots. I hate to have roots showing, just like I wouldn't dream of not wearing matched underwear. I'll do it even if I'm not going out of the house.
I was waiting for my housemate to leave, because I don't want to inflict the hair mess on my worse enemy much less a good friend. And as for Rick, I figure he'll head back to Texas should he witness the process, maybe even in a rowboat.
However, when she said "What do you want to do about lunch?" and although I hesitated for much longer than usual weighing the choices, we ended up at Marro with its plate of Lebanese food and if our many waiter friends at the restaurant had to look at my roots, they didn't flinch.
Tomorrow I'll have time to do the colouring before Rick makes it back from Argelès. Despite my age, I still want to look my best all the time for me first and the rest of the world second... And equally important is not to pass up a good meal with a good friend.
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