Each trip to the salon is nothing short of a miracle for me, as my hair is transformed to perfection. I kick myself almost every time, because I forget to bring the water that I'm confident Monica would turn into wine, if I asked her.
This visit was slightly special because Monica was sick on the day of our appointment, so one of the faithful from the salon called and suggested I could see someone else [gasp]. I politely declined and was rewarded for my patience with another miraculous event the following day.
I'm frankly a bit shocked there aren't lines around the block, but I guess I should probably be grateful I have my very own golden goose and just shutup and be grateful.