Why I am doomed

I tend to doom myself, which is nice because then I have no one to blame but me. I don't have to spend time railing at some other forces. I can pull up a mirror and simply say:

Erin, you dipshit.

Here's how I doomed myself this week:

I'm on appointment overload. Normally I try to keep it to just one appointment a week.

Tuesday: Vote!
Wednesday: Doctor!
Friday: Hair!

The first two I'm fine with. It's the last one I did on a whim and it's killing me. I work at the Dog that day and I have NO IDEA what the heck I want for a hair cut. Sure, my bangs need to be redone but beyond that no clue. Trim? Maybe, but it's such a pricey appointment I want it to be glorious. And Emily is glorious. If she moves, I will find her. If I move, she's coming with. That's how awesome she is. But I've got no clue. I don't want to hack off too much because of the winter, but I'm at that horrible point where my hair will get caught in my armpit and if I roll over too fast in my sleep, I'll break my neck.

That's right. I'm sexy.

In wonderful news, I have gotten a raise. This will make fuel oil that much easier as well as all the Thanksgiving grub.

Tonight's food adventure will be sloppy joes. I've been meatless the past few days and it needs to be fixed.