When the Things Get Hairy, the Hairy Gets Scary

Ever look in the mirror, and have your hair tell the story of your day?

The other day I wore my hair like this:

Here I am at work.  I was much happier when I left the house...

And at first, when I left the house, I was loving my hair.  I was loving my life... seizing the day,  feeling like Shania Twain:

Man... I feel like a woman!

Then a couple things go wrong (or not even wrong, just unexpected) and all of a sudden my luscious locks are starting to look frilly and poofy.  My hair's haphazardly sliding out of my hair clip which is lopsidedly falling off my head.  My thoughts and actions soon mirror my appearance, impulsive and scattered.  I'm not smooth, calm, or collected.    Shania Twain, who?    I have somehow evolved into Elaine:

But, as 5 o'clock nears, I get my act together.  I start making checklists and to do notes for the next morning.  Before the end of the work-day whistle blows, I have all my ducks in a row, lined up for a better tomorrow.  In the window's reflection I catch a glimpse of my full bangs and wretched hair that I've man-handled back into place.   Damn it, I look like Mrs. Duggar!