This morning when I was about to get out of my black crown victoria to go to work, I flipped down my rear view mirror to take one last look at my appearance. I needed to make sure to catch any hair sticking on end, any pancake between my teeth, or syrup on my cheeks. To my horror I noticed one facial problem I could not immediately fix, my eyebrows. While I knew I hadn’t plucked them in a while, they had looked fine in my bathroom mirror. I had wondered why they would still look nice after several weeks without maintenance but the mirror had said the shape was fine. Now, out in the morning sunshine on the rooftop level of the parking lot, I could see the truth. A full layer of uneven long black hair had grown in below my shaped brows. They looked just like a teenage boys attempt to grow in a scraggly mustache. Oh well, such is life. While I was resigning myself to my fate and closed up the mirror I looked down at my somewhat clean sweater and black “jeggings” and realized they both had been splattered with yogurt. Aaaarg, I thought, so much for professionalism. Luckily it’s Friday and my funky self just may go unnoticed by the powers that be.

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