In search of a decent hair barrette

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I’ve always been a creature of habit, and trucking makes a lot of things difficult for creatures of habit. There are so few things we can actually control on the road, some of us tend to cling to those things with a veracity that isn’t necessarily healthy for our mental status. Of course, by we I mean me, and sometimes my quest to keep stable what small things I can sends me on other journeys.

A little back story is necessary here.

I use an ancient laptop computer, held together with sheer will and powered by an intricately woven power cord that was manufactured during the dark ages of technology. I started having problems with the power cord about a year ago, and in true trucker fashion, I fixed it by clamping a crook in the cord with a hair barrette, and it’s worked fine since then.

I have an attachment to this computer, and I’ve endured countless crashes, near complete losses and death screens because I love it and I’m comfortable with it. I’m also superstitious about it, and believe I have probably worn off at least a half inch of finger skin into the keyboard, so now it’s at least a little bit human and definitely a part of me.

I’ve taken three new computers back to Best Buy, and when the barrette broke and my power cord stopped working, I was fairly certain finding another barrette and clamping it again was a much better idea then shopping for a fourth new computer that I would bitch incessantly about until I took it back and found a barrette for my power cord.

Here comes the “other journey” part.

Try finding a regular, non-blingy hair barrette in a truck stop. I would make the bold statement that it’s not possible, but I’ve learned anything is possible on the road, and some truck stops sell live turtles and alligator heads, so I’m sure there’s one with plain barrettes, but I didn’t find it.

My question is, do the merchandisers for truck stops have some crazy idea that every female on the road dresses like Dolly Parton? I mean, I love Dolly and all, but I don’t carry a purse that looks like a Swarovski crystal factory exploded on it, and I’ve never once considered wearing a pink baseball cap with enough bling to alert Mars to my presence at the Iron Skillet.

“Mars called. They’d like to know how the buffet looks at the Skillet today.”“Mars called. They’d like to know how the buffet looks at the Skillet today.”

Not many grown women wear barrettes encrusted with enough cut glass geegaws to start a fire in the direct sunlight, and not may of us crave the attention of a giant pink wallet with a mirrored cross on it big enough to scare vampires three counties away.

I get it that a lot of women, including myself, enjoy the sparkly factor, but for heaven’s sake, let’s temper it with some common sense, please. Merchandisers, if you’re listening, we’re grown women, and just because we spend a lot of time in trucks doesn’t mean we have no taste or fashion sense at all. A 2′ by 3′ card display of plain old Goody’s hair accessories would be much more useful in our lives than a giant sunflower scrunchie with a matching cigarette case. And please, for the love of God, stop selling the $5 sundresses – they are a tragedy of wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen.

Sometimes, finding regular things when you’re on the road is hard.

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