In which it was really my own fault

I've been been to see my new and very lovely hairdresser, who is lovely, did I mention that already?

Anyroad, the outcome of said appointment is that my hair is now about three inches shorter (still covers my collar bones, so result) than an hour ago, but on the plus side, it no longer feels like someone mixed candyfloss into the ends when I brush (read:battle) it.

The moral of this story? Sweetheart really needs to have her hair cut with something approaching regularity.

And keep her mother away from the peroxide.

THINGS THAT MAKE NO SENSE.

Gizmo the Kitten sitting on a stool, nodding her head like a Bobble-Head Doll.

Why?

IT'S A CAT. ON A STOOL.
...
NODDING.