It’s been said plenty of times, but sisters are great. Mine, for example, came over this afternoon to help me color my hair.
Thanks to an open wound on my scalp, I haven’t done anything to it since April. (I could put in photos here of said wound swollen and oozing, since selfies are the only way I’ve found to be able to check it; but I will spare you all that sight because I’m nice like that.) The color has faded enough that I haven’t felt too bad about how it looks – I at least don’t have that horizontal-line-across-the-hair division of color that you sometimes see. I also find seeing my natural color gratifying since Jason pointed out once that so long as I kept dying my hair, I couldn’t be certain that I didn’t have gray hair. I have a gray hair or two in my eyebrows (apparently I inherited my father’s eyebrows), but the rest of the hair on my head is still brown and youthful.
Well, not so much brown. Over dinner last night, Rachel asked what color I was planning on doing next. When I expressed my apprehension about smearing chemicals over the open wound, she offered to come over and help me out. So this afternoon she donned rubber gloves, smeared my wound with antibiotic ointment, then worked the hair dye in everywhere except that patch.