My hours of ...beautification?

Today I am taking my wild mop of hair to the salon for...emergency restoration efforts. I do not like going to the salon, but my hair grows so fast, that after three months of benign neglect, it is getting frightening. It's gone beyond the "Fuck you, I'm a free thinker!" in its appearance, to Crazy Cat Lady on The Simpsons'. And Mr. P., I can say that about myself, but others may not... Speaking of the estimable Beloved Spouse, his blog today jogged my memory: Exactly five years ago today, and practically to the minute, I was in the same salon getting...improved...when the Nisqually earthquake struck the Puget Sound area. There was a fireman in the salon getting his gray hair colored, and in his cape, with his hair standing up in gooey globs, he evacuated us from the place, saying,"Ladies, this building isn't safe, we need to leave." His main concern, once we got outside, was,"Man, I hope the guys from the fire station don't drive by!"