Today at work, five people told me that my hair looked good. Five! And two of them stopped me in the hall to tell me. This never happens.
Of course, my hair is an entity unto itself, with a mind and a will of its own, and it does not care what I think or feel or want it to do. It does what it wants to do, which is to be big and poofy and frizzy and uncontrollable. So it's usually in a ponytail, because at least then it's out of my face.
But today, the hair gods smiled on me, and let my usual Rosanna Roseannadanna do take a day off.
And I am just girly enough to fully appreciate that today was a good hair day.
52 weeks of happiness