going to a job interview

I have a job interview tomorrow afternoon. I'm very pleased about this. It's in Newton, and I could get there by T in less than 90 minutes, with only a few blocks of walking. In the past, I've driven to job interviews. I thought it was like wearing a suit--even though it's uncomfortable, and might not be necessary for the daily performance of the job itself, it was worth doing once to show one was approaching the interview with proper seriousness. But perhaps I read too much into it.

Since the acute unpleasantness of Tuesday's steroid injection, my shoulder has been about 30% less painful. I'm not sure if this means I can use it for driving and similar exertions, or if I have a choice between reduced pain and increased exertion. The doctor advised me to wait a week before starting physical therapy. It would probably be sensible not to drive. But I feel more capable of it than I did last week, so I dither about it. There is never a shortage of things to dither about before a job interview. (Should I alert my references before the interview, or wait until I get a positive response? Should I wear the shirt with the cufflinks?)

hair

For most of my life, I had long hair in back, and bangs in front. A few years ago, I started growing the bangs out. It took more or less forever, and I had a lot of uncertainty along the way about whether I ought to just cut them off again. But I had already put so much time and aggravation into dealing with partly-grown-out bangs that were long enough to get in my eyes but not long enough to catch in a ponytail...so I didn't cut them. Then I needed to renew my passport. (The US Department of State has done a great many things for and to a great many people, but I doubt they've inspired many hairstyling decisions.) Passport pictures generally look terrible, and mine aren't really an exception. The Department of State returned one of my new pictures clipped to my old passport, and I thought "yikes!" It was obvious that I looked a whole lot less terrible with bangs than without. (I also looked better 80 lbs heavier, 11 years younger, with larger-framed glasses, and without chronic pain.) I will nod to fashion and the constraints of reality to a certain extent, but I will get a haircut.

I finally look like me again

I have a haircut. The back part goes to about the middle of my back. I have fond hopes that not having hair longer than waist length will mean an end to hair getting tangled in the elastic of my underpants. Not having a washing machine vigorous enough to remove hair from clothing was making that a really excessive nuisance.

The hairdresser spent a ridiculous amount of time blowing my hair dry and fluffing it up in layers. I suspect she was just having a good time playing with it, but it looks really nice. (She recommends a round brush. I roll my eyes at about half of you, and ask what good is a round brush?) I don't have a blowdryer these days. When I had one, I only used it to apply shrink-wrap insulation to my windows.