Through an odd, even for me, set of choices, I initially turned to someone that I now realize that I barely know, after the situation explained a couple of posts ago came to light. That person (who I will call Y) was completely in the dark until I brought it up. Actually, I broached the subject, asked the best way to discuss it further, agreed that it was a topic best covered in writing, and wrote a letter about it. It turned out pretty long, as there was some back-story that was necessary to explain the current circumstances, and I'm not generally brief in writing anyway.
I sent the letter (which was, in essence, the longer version of that blog post), it was received, and Y's response was, basically, "Dang, that letter was incredibly long. It would take forever to write back to it!" And so, apparently, not writing anything is a preferable alternative.
I'm not going to say that was totally unhelpful...or even that it was more insulting than anything else.
If you have a person, ladies--someone who knows your hair and can do whatever magic needs to be done to keep it in the right working order--please don't ever take that person for granted. I had a person, and she is safe and sound and healthy back in the place where I used to be. I'm searching for a replacement, now, someone who can do the best they can with what I'll give them, which will be less than she got (in terms of my cooperation and enthusiasm and of course money). I miss loving my hair, knowing it was receiving the best of care and that all my questions and concerns were being answered (so many of them before I ever thought to ask!) by a true professional. I had it good.
Something just went Ping in my neck, and the whole left side of my head and neck are hot now. That doesn't seem right. I think I'll take something (what now? how about Advil?) and try to arrange myself in bed in a way that makes it less, um, whatever it is. And apparently stop getting kicked by rugby players when I'm not paying attention.
[the title quotation is by Henry James, from Washington Square, and reads in its entirety as below.]
“'You think too much.'
'I suppose I do; but I can’t help it, my mind is so terribly active. When I give myself, I give myself. I pay the penalty in my headaches, my famous headaches--a perfect circlet of pain! But I carry it as a queen carries her crown.”