I woke up with bed head hair this morning. I probably do so every morning but some divine force made me look at myself in the mirror and discover my hair standing up like dancing partiers frozen in a photo's stillness. I briefly considered keeping it that way for the day. It was a fad, with products available to create a bed head look. Don't know if that's still popular (or even if was ever 'popular' or another niche player) but I knew I couldn't keep it like that. My wife would pitch a fit.
She was never a bed head hair style fan.
What was more startling was that I had bed head eyebrows.
Like the late Andy Rooney, my eyebrows have grown longer and wilder through the years. My wife is not a fan so I'm aware of them and trim them. If I don't she tries to pull stray ones away, snatching at them as she says, "Let me get that hair," with the intention of jerking it free of its roots. Barbers have also taken to asking me when my hair is done, "Want me to trim your eyebrows?"
I do not consider that a good sign.
But to see them, like my hair, caught splayed in different directions, like, a, a photo of an explosion going off in the middle of them, caught just as the blast threw everyone in different directions, or b, like my partying bed head hair invited the eyebrows to join in. "Come on, everybody up, let's dance," I hear my head hair shout. I can imagine the little boogers standing up and starting to move to the beat (what's the song?), while shouting, "Wooo!" I'm surprised the party didn't wake me.
As I went for the morning's first joe to wash these thoughts and images out of my mind, I reflected on how fortunate I was, to have some hair to do these things, but also, perhaps more importantly, that I don't have ear hair.
Could you imagine waking up with bed head ear hair? It boogles the mind.
Causes Michael Seidel Supports
Kiva, Women's International League for Peace and Freedom, Propublica.org, Doctors Without Borders, GreaterGood.com