Magpie and Muttonfly

When you flail about, frantically trying to lay waste to a big, black, hairy spider – one that somehow manages to escape your clutches of doom – do mind the hair.  Even if there is no open flame, you just never know what might transpire. For instance, you could be sitting there, contemplating life’s quandaries, when you run your fingers through your hair – and get stuck. This, my friends, is never a good sign. It’s especially bad if there’s a solid substance.  In your hair.

Granted, you may be a writer; still, you took a shower that very morning!  So you sit there, pondering what hair product could have possibly gone so very, very wrong. You jump up to further investigate.  That’s when you notice the spot on your shirt … wax, it would appear.  You look down at the only candle lit that morning. How could it have lept up on your shirt and toward the back of your head?  Did you hold the candle and spaz? Was there an earthquake?  Were you abuducted by aliens and didn’t know it? 

Only later … when you happen to notice the odd trail of drippings around the wax burner …  will you put two-and-two together.  If only you had wrangled that hair better.  If only you would have paid closer attention, your hair would have never been tempted to take a nice dip in pool of wax. You could have saved your self mental anguish trying to figure it all out. You could have actually spent the hour doing something productive.

It’s a cautionary tale my friends, a cautionary tale…