Today started like any other; wonderfully quiet.
I was just relaxing in my bed, sighing peacefully because of how heavenly my bed is. Sure, I felt lighter than I had since I had come to this wonderful world, but I just likened it to be less stressed on this fine, rainy day.
Those bitches.
So, feeling floaty and lighter than yesterday, I decided to get up and spend a while swi--bathing in my wonderfully large roman bath.
And as I made my way there, through my giant walk-in closet, I happened on a wonderful and big golden mirror in my marble closet. And I screamed. Because someone cut my fucking hair.
My HAIR! Who does that? I mean, second graders with scissors, sure. I was even one of them, but this is certainly a professional cut! Like they even SHAVED the back!
I'm not crying. Your imagining things! You certainly can't hear my sniffles.
My hair.
ಥ_ಥ
I'm certainly not sulking in my Olympic-sized poo-roman bath waters.
Nope.
I shall get to the bottom of this, or everyone will payyyyy!