The other day I was thinking about how lucky I am.
I was thinking this because I was looking in the mirror and my hair was so blonde, so bouncy, so perfectly Breck girl, that I felt sorry for atheists. Because here was proof of the divine wonders and they were just too stubborn to see it. What is in their hearts, I wondered. When would they open their eyes and let the Lord in? In to their hearts, which I guess would also need to be open, much like the previously mentioned eyes.
Anyway, my hair looked great. Good Hair Day didn’t quite do it justice, it was more like a Perfect Hair Day in the First Degree. I marveled at my reflection in the mirror, tossed a strand or two back and laughed. Life was good. So very, very good.
A few hours later, I met one of my progeny at the salon for a hair check. For some reason, this progeny suspected lice. And the reason was visual.
“I am sure it is a false alarm,” I tossed my hair back and settled in to read my Kindle. I was reading Of Mice and Men and couldn’t wait to learn more about Lennie’s adventures! It seemed like he was destined for some excitement! I was glued to my Kindle. Glued, I tell you!
“We have a live one!” the hair check specialist checking my kid’s hair exclaimed. And then said something technical, like “Code Lice.”
“Oh?” I looked up from my Kindle. Lennie is so strong, a real Depression Era Marlboro Man! I saw a real future for us.
The lice checking lady nodded. “Do you want us to check you?”
I laughed. “Me? Why would you want to check me?”
I asked, but I sort of knew. My hair, being so bouncy and beautiful, drew admirers from far and wide. I was a little stunned that Lennie didn’t reach for it through the Kindle and barriers of fiction.
“To see if you have lice,” was the official story.
“That will not be necessary,” I reassured them. I mean, I get it. When you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail. But come on. I am practically a hair model, I think I would know through hair intuition if I had lice.
Besides, when they do the lice check they put all this cream in your hair and ugh. It’s impossible for hair to be bouncy and lovely with it.
“We can do a dry check,” the lady said and I agreed. I’m a giver.
“Yeah, you have lice,” she said after looking for 3.9 seconds.
“I don’t know how you could possibly have made an identification so quickly,” I filed a complaint. “Shouldn’t there be some sort of a DNA analysis and lawyers involved?”
But she started to spread the cream all over my head. And I sat there for hours while she combed out the lice, the nits, and the memories of my perfect bouncy hair.
At least I still had Lennie. I can’t wait to see how that turns out!