I’m further away from home than I’ve ever been in my life, and although it’s really cool to see things I’ve never seen, I’m missing some of the comforts of home. When my husband is out alone, we call this the “14-day blues.” I can always tell when he’s coming up on the two-week mark. He gets melancholy and has a tendency to be a little snippish. I found myself with the 14-day affliction this morning at the Pilot in Weed, Calif., when I realized I had run out of shampoo and conditioner.
This seems like a quick fix. I should have been able to easily remedy the situation in the toiletry aisle of the truck stop. Granted, I was prepared to have to pay 40 times what it would have cost at Walmart, but my hair waits for no Walmart. To my distinct horror, there was shampoo available, but no conditioner. My husband walked up about the time I realized this.
“What’s the matter? You look like you’re going to cry.”
“There’s no conditioner. I can’t shampoo my hair and not condition it.”
“Babe, there’s Head and Shoulders right here. It’ll be OK.”
“Head and shoulders? Am I flaky? Like a croissant?”
[Insert snot bubble crying on my part here. In the Pilot. With a hundred startled truckers looking at me.]
“Hey, come on, don’t cry. There’s no reason to be so upset.”
“I need conditioner. Robin will never forgive me if I put crappy Head and Shoulders on her gorgeous color job. She’ll never do my hair again. I’ll be gray and gross forever.”
[Side note: Robin is my back-home bestie and hairdresser. She is the sole reason I have the lovely blonde locks I do, and I love her for that and many other reasons.]
“Babe, don’t cry. We’ll find something to condition your hair with. Can you put some lotion on it?”
“Lotion?! In my hair? Have you lost your mind?”
“Calm down. We’ll find something. How about chain lubricant?”
“Are you looking in the automotive aisle for things to condition my hair with? Seriously? Chain lubricant? Why don’t we just dump some diesel fuel on it and set a match to it?”
“Look, you’re going to have to calm down. There’s no sense in this.”
“Oh OK, I’ll just calm right on down while I ruin my hair. I’ll go home bald, but I’ll be nice and calm. Oh yeah. Calm and cool as a cucumber. And hairless like one, too.”
[Insert more snot bubbles.]
“Look, I’m going to take a shower. You do whatever you need to.”
“Awesome. Abandon me. Just like you will when I’m bald.”
“Baby, you could be bald, crippled and blind and I’d never leave your side.”
“Stop being nice to me. I can’t be all distraught if you’re being sweet.”
“It’s my super power. Now go shower and use the Head and Shoulders, I promise Robin will understand.”
Needless to say, I used the Head and Shoulders and I didn’t go immediately bald. In retrospect, I may have even overreacted a little about the lack of conditioner. I blame it squarely on the 14-day blues, and refuse to admit a psychological disorder. But Robin, if you’re reading this, I apologize profusely and will never leave home again without the economy size of decent shampoo and conditioner. Never.
On March 18, Weddle’s trailer crossed over the centerline of the highway, ...