Ah holidays, it's what everybody wants. It's what everybody needs. It's what everybody craves. Until they get them. You factory workers and child laborours of course think of it as a miracle, bestowed upon you from some bloke with a beard and sandals, or whoever it is you work for.
Of course, you would be right; the first days you get to sleep in are nothing short of miraculous. But then it hit me…
I am the only one here on holidays.
My family and friends are all out working jobs that ignore the sacred school holiday tradition.
This is the catastrophic, unsettling life that I lead. How do I do it?
It seems as though I've been holidaying for an eternity, and perhaps the boredom that I encounter from these long hungover holiday afternoons has begun to play on my mind. Holiday fever, if you will. It is this fever that prompted me to consent to this:
I now have straight hair. For today anyway. There is precious little to keep my ears warm now, and I feel about 5cm shorter than I normally do.
At first it seemed as though my peripheral vision had been impaired, but fear not, I soon found that the halo which previously surrounded my head like a knotty aura of mayhem had been heat treated into submission, collapsing into a decadent, silky (darest I use that word?) waterfall of auburn.
But what shall I do with this new do? It stays behind my ears a little too well, I can comb it, I can 'slick' my hair back into a ponytail now, just like in the magazines. I also discovered I look half decent with the top part of my hair pulled back, a la quiff, which was never a possibility before. I have also discovered that my hair now posesses the ability to refract and reflect light evenly, so when i'm typing messages on my phone I get distracted by the pretty colours bouncing around my unswerving shafts.
It's a whole new world. I have had but a small taste of the power of straight hair, and yet I pass the test. I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Annaleis.
Well, tomorrow when I wash it anyway.
Now all that hype is over, I've still got another week of holidays to fill in. I might get up and do something constructive, if only I could stop touching my surreal hair for five minutes.
There. Did it.