Saturday, July 07, 2012

Ma Anche No
While I was at the hair salon, half asleep, today, I got a call to say that the little sister of a friend of T's had lice/pidocchi. The big sister had just slept over at our house two night's before. I started to itch. All over. Then I started feeling guilty for being at the hair salon. Just then, one of the stylists asked me if I wanted a full head of color or a re-touch. Panicking, I said just a re-touch.Then I called F and he checked T and didn't find anything. This did not reassure me since he can't find socks in his sock drawer. He started putting all of the linens in the machine. Then I called him back. "And boil the brushes." "And wash the couch cover." "And, honey, could you soak her head in conditioner for half an hour and cover it in a plastic bag and then have her wash it out?" Between insulin injections. In the end, I decided to admit the situation to my friend at the hair salon. Big mistake. An hour later after my hair was already dried dead straight my friend Federica asked me why I did a re-touch when I was meant to have a full color. I don't know. I haven't slept in three weeks. Aren't they supposed to keep track of that?

I went straight from the hair salon to the erborista and bought a vinegar spray to prevent lice from adhering to the hair and then went  home and checked T's head and found nothing. F and T checked my head and found nothing. This didn't stop me from itching. Or from fretting about the gray hairs that never got covered. I bit the bullet and called the hair salon. The one who doesn't like me so much answered and I could hear her roll her eyes over the telephone as she passed me to Fede. I made a second appointment to come in for the afternoon. I justified that I couldn't really check for lice on a background of white hair. They re-did my whole head and it was obvious that they had all talked about the lice situation. Fede! Is nothing sacred? They wore gloves and washed my hair for twice as long as usual. I spent a total of three hours at the hair salon, knowing that if I had lice it would not help at all. The boss of the hair salon also told me this while shaking his head mournfully. I got home and got confirmation that T's friend also had lice. I re-checked everybody's heads and then went to teach my class on the walls. The new young, beautiful zumba teacher was there. Sometimes I hate it when other teachers take my class. It is so nerve-wracking. I introduced her about five times to the class as if she were a game show contestant on The Price is Right. I felt old and tired, but not a gray hair or a bug in sight. It's as if somebody up there said basta/enough already. (I hope.)

* I woke up exhausted and still with the phantom itching. Still no sign of anything. F asked me what I had to do today, thinking that I could finally get some rest. I looked at him in dismay. It's the FIRST DAY OF SALE WEEK I shouted. He started laughing hysterically. Then he reminded me that i come by my craziness naturally. I had a great aunt who was involved in a hit and run. She hit a car or a school bus, I don't remember exactly, and kept on going. Later she explained, "I felt bad . . . but I had a hair appointment. "

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