Tag Archives: beauty upkeep

Beauty Misadventure: The No-Show

Ladies (I presume you gentlemen will not have an opinion), I could use your advice.

I’ve been seeing the same esthetician for several years — A tints and shapes my brows and tints my eyelashes — and she usually does a terrific job so I’ve stayed loyal, even after she left the salon where I get my hair done to go out on her own. It’s less convenient but I like her.

Today I was scheduled for an appointment that had been rescheduled when A got sick a few weeks ago.  I’d received an email reminder as well as an auto-generated text confirmation, so I had every reason to expect business as usual.

I show up at A’s studio, which she shares with a Pilates instructor in a funky older house.  Something is off.  There’s still a painted sign on the curbside stucco ledge advertising Pilates, so I haven’t gone to the wrong address.  But I do seem to have wandered into the Twilight Zone. The doorbell is taped over and dangles from a dingy cord. And not only is A not there, there’s no sign of life inside.

Peering through the frosted glass door I see that the studio on the left has been dismantled. In place of benches, free weights and exercise bands there are several  washers and dryers — is it turning into a laundromat? A’s room is in the back of the house so I can’t tell if it’s operational. Surely she would have said something…. like maybe yesterday?

I text, and then call, thinking maybe A is working out of her apartment, as she’s sometimes done in the past. But I don’t have that address and she never responds.  After waiting a half hour I leave one more message, give up, and head back home with unkempt brows, faded lashes, and no time to get them fixed before we go out of town this weekend.

As of tonight, I still haven’t heard from her so I’m concerned. Has something happened to her? To her beloved dog? Someone in her family? This is most unusual, even though hers is not a completely untroubled life.

But here’s my more selfish question:  This is now the second time in recent weeks that our appointment has fallen through. To be honest, it’s becoming a pain in the ass. Should I give her one more try? Or maybe start getting these services done at a salon where there will be back up if someone runs into a personal issue?

What would you do??

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Photo by Tookapic on Pexels.com

Car Wars

I’ve written before about my theory/belief/fear that inanimate objects, such as the house you left behind while you swanned about on vacation, have a way of punishing you.

This week, it’s my car.

The palladium princess had been hooked up to a battery charger all summer and was running like a top (whatever that means) upon arrival, so off I went on Monday to get it/her inspected and renew my registration before it expired and some random cop desperate to make quota could pull me over.

With a passing grade under our belts, PP and I set off for a day of errands and adventures and looked forward to more of the same: Physical! Haircut! Dentist! Flu shot! – I’m telling you, life doesn’t get more exciting than cramming 4 months’ worth of overdue appointments into less than two weeks.

Tuesday I head to the garage and – oh joy – my newly inspected steel maiden will not start. Argh! Quickly borrowing my husband’s car so as not to miss Critical Appointment Of The Day (eyebrow shaping and lash lift), we leave her hooked up to the battery charger.

Which does nothing. Or, to be more precise, creates a charge just long enough to drive back to the car inspectors and get a diagnosis.

To no one’s surprise, PP needs a new battery… or, the universe needs $200+ to leave my wallet. Yippee.

Wednesday: The car is running smoothly so off we go to the dermatologist for a little “upkeep” in the form of microneedling. I have some extra time so I stop at CVS on the way, being careful to park away from other vehicles.

However… NOT careful to park far enough away from the Bane of Urban Existence, the parking barrier. Can I just say that I do not understand the need for these concrete logs to be approximately the same height as the low-slung carriage of any car smaller than an urban assault vehicle?

I back out and hear that sickening crunching sound that tells me I’ve scraped the undercarriage. Which would have been bad enough except that’s not what I did. The damn barrier must have gotten lodged under the front bumper because it’s been dragged and is now separated from the rest of the car. Crap and double crap, although at least PP is drivable. Small miracles.

Thursday. First order of business is to call the insurance company – always a super way to start the day. Then the body shop, where Very Nice Person Nick makes an appointment with me for Monday and suggests I stop by earlier so he can order any necessary parts.

Which, of course, turns out to be the entire goddamn bumper. Because the universe obviously requires another 500 bucks to exit my wallet.

Today: The day is young. If I stay home, what can happen? Don’t even ask.

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