In the previous month, I have done a pile of things that are really of no interest to you. I ran around gathering HIV tests (you'll be happy to know I'm negative) and bank letters and things to obtain (at the last possible hour) my Ecuador visa, along with renewing stolen bank cards, medical cards (thanks parents), my driver's license, and such things, all between a two-week trip to Boston, Washington DC, and Denver. (The first were to do some college tours for my sister, the latter to see my family.) The trip was extended when my grandpa died (he was 91 and on hospice...it was actually one of the more enjoyable funerals I've been to) leaving me a measely five days when I came home to try to figure out how to know what I would need for the next year and pack accordingly without going over my weight limit, all the while sucking every last moment out of Erin Reeves, Julia High, and Mike Souza.
In the midst of the madness, I made a life-altering decision. After approximately 15 years of very long, thick, unruly, messy, conditioner-sucking, long-shower-creating, and drain-clogging curly brown hair, I cut it. And I mean cut it. Over a foot of my lucious locks were donated, leaving me with the easily managable curly top you see below. You can close your mouth now.