Messy days

I inspect my hair in the mirror. It’s turning that murky pink-yellow colour on the tips as my usual purple dye fades out again. Time to re-dye! Today seems like as good a day as any, so out comes the bottle, gloves, and cheap conditioner; using it sometimes even keeps the dye from staining my skin.

Now, making a mess while recolouring my hair is no new thing. Specks of dye get on the sink, on me, on the walls (okay, only that one time). I have long since given up any concern for getting dye on myself, giving them a cursory scrub then living with the splotches for a few days until my skin renews itself. I try and be more cautious with the household, and usually manage to clean off any marks before they can cause a more permanent stain.

Once I’m suitably purple, I realise I’m starving! Need-to-eat-immediately-starving. Pancakes are my perfect solution. This is why I keep some store-bought shake pancake bottles in the cupboard, after all. Let me be perfectly clear, here: I’ve made these exact pancakes this exact way dozens of times before. Add the milk, tap the bottle to release the flour mix, shake it for a while then release the gases building up, and shake again.

Today was not meant to be a clean day. Aside from slopping milk down the side of the bottle, on the second round of shaking, the lid makes a faint ppppssssssttttttt noise at me. Then pops halfway off the threads and oozes thick, fluffy pancake mix. I rush it to the sink, taking the lid off to try and cease the eruption, but the goopy batter just keeps flowing. I end up tipping half the bottle into a bowl, but for some reason (perhaps an error in the manufacture), this particular pancake mix has nearly doubled in size. Oh well, more pancakes for me!

With the first tasty round frying up on the stove, I toss some bacon in a pan and get onto the most important part of any morning: the coffee production. But remember, this is some kind of conspiratorial morning, designed for messiness all round. Coffee grinds go on the floor. I spill water on the counter while filling the reservoir in the percolator. It’s a wonder the sugar didn’t go flying across the kitchen!

Since then, I ate breakfast and drank my coffee in peace. No significant mess in that department. But it’s only just on 10:30am, leaving more than enough hours in the day for something else to โ€œgo wrongโ€. Really, I’m not concerned. It’s just a bit of mess. Makes life interesting, you know?

~A

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8 thoughts on “Messy days

  1. “My mom says some days are like that, even in Australia.”
    ~’Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day’

    1. Fun fact: Most people I deal with regularly are so used to purple hair and think of it as suiting me so well, I’ve had a lot of comments when I’m not purple that I don’t look like me, or when I’ve re-dyed, that they’re happy to see me back to normal. ๐Ÿ˜‰

      ~A

    1. Yeah, paint and I have a long history. I get it everywhere. It was a frequent occurrence when I was still doing art to find my with lots of paint in my hair, or splodges on my elbow or eyebrow. ๐Ÿ˜„

      ~A

  2. Purple hair? I love it! Oh, to be young again. My hair coloring is all about covering the grays these days. *sniff*

    Isn’t it crazy how we have those conspiratorial klutzy days? I love the quote from the kids’ book, too! Great find, Al!

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