Your hair is the color of the sun, your skin is like fresh milk

Stop! Sit.

I got up really late for work today, and after my first three calls, I think my urge to call in sick was less lazy than protective, but I got up late and didn’t have time to wash my hair. Instead, I just brushed it thoroughly, root to tip, to get all of the oil more equally distributed. Staring in the mirror, I was inspired to write this little verse.

Dirty, dirty hair
That’s looking very greasy
On a girl who doesn’t care
If she’s pretty or she’s pleasing.

I hope all of my lapses in hygiene are this valuable. (side note- I was convinced that fortuitous was the word I wanted to use instead of valuable. I was wrong.)