Slice of Lice

As I type these words,  I am soaking.  Not in the bathtub,  not in the hot tub,  not even in the warm glow of the spring sunshine.  Nope, not this time.

I am,  however,  soaking my hair in apple cider vinegar,  the most noxious of the pickling family.  (And I might say that I’ve actually never seen my curls so bouncy.) But this is not a spa treatment, not something we thirty-somethings subject ourselves to as we notice changes to our aging bodies.

This is an intervention.  I’ve been blessed with lots of hair and tonight, I have been given what I can only imagine is  a gift from the six-year-old who said quite plainly to me this morning as I worked with her in reading: “Your hair looks crazy.  No I mean really,  really  crazy.”  Little did I know that tonight I’d be working her into my slice.

Slice – S = Lice.  Slice of life – f +c = Slice of lice.

Fortunately for me, I have also been blessed with a husband who is racing home, armed with a metal comb and another gallon or two of the potent potion that is currently stinging my neck like a bad eighties perm. (Yes, I am old enough to have had several of those, the kind that took over a hundred rods to turn my hair into Ramon noodles)

As I type these words, I sit in the middle of the living room, touching nothing, waiting. Waiting for my knight with shining shampoo to rescue me.

---

That was two days ago, and I can say with clear confidence that it was just a false alarm.  Though even as I reread these words, my head is itching.  My teacher friends know the feeling, I’m sure.  And now so will you! 🙂

 

I am participating in the 9th annual Slice of Life Challenge hosted by Two Writing Teachers.