My hair is unruly, and tends to match my personality of the day. If I am around town and my hair is a mess-you may want to steer clear. If my quaff looks good to you, it's probably not supposed to look that way, and I am probably frustrated. If my hair looks awesome and makes everyone say "cute hair," I am probably like, "I know right," and I am in a fantastic mood (then I send them on their way to Martina ;). It just came to my attention the other day how much my hair affects my day.

Yesterday, I dried my hair, flipped on my flat iron, and it was a "bibbity-bobbity-boo"moment. My hair, literally, fell into place. It was going to be a good day. I felt like I had been hit with the pretty stick, as my mane swished and shined while I finished my morning routine.

I stepped outside, and even though there was a thin layer of snow on the ground, I smelled nothing but Spring. The sun was luminescent, and all was well. I slid over the black ice as though I was an amateur figure skater, but I didn't notice, too much, life was good.

I get to work, coffee in hand, and on time! Neat! The day was good!