A Brush with Danger

So today was Thanksgiving. I woke up and went over to Johns to start making rolls and jello and some other stuff I was supposed to bring to our family thanksgiving at my brothers. I decided to shower later on at Johns so that I could start on the food I had to make. That was my first mistake. So I make the rolls and then go to take a shower while they rise, before putting them in the oven. After getting out of the shower and dressed I realize that I forgot a brush. So I go to John's bathroom to see if he has one. All he has is one of those hard bristled skinny round brushes from like 1985. I hestitated, but I was in a bind and in a hurry so I pick up the brush and begin to quickly start brushing my messed up toweled dry hair. I started with the front, combing it forward to make sure my bangs got brushed through first. Then all of a sudden I can't move the brush or get it out of my hair. I HONESTLY have NO IDEA how this happened. Perhaps a sudden wrong twist of my wrist or something, or on the up stroke my hair was still in the brush so it just wrapped around those old little plastic bristles. So I pull on it and then twist it one way, then the other, to try to see just HOW my hair is still caught in this brush. But every movement seems to tighten the brush more securely to the base of my scalp. By this time I begin to panic. I have a wedding 3 weeks away and all I can imagine is having to cut this dang brush out of my head leaving a huge bald patch on the top of my head. So naturally the tears are flowing down my cheeks and I am running down stairs, all the while trying to pull the brush out of my hair, which might as well be glued to the front of my head at this point. I wake John out of his Turkey Day nap on the couch with my exasperated pounding down the stairs, and whinning cry. He calmly asks me what's wrong and what's happened and hugs me and tells me its going to be okay. So we go upstairs so he can try to get it out.

After forty minutes and one break down in the middle, where I exclaimed amid a mass of sobs "We're both going to have a bald spot at the wedding!" and a few other fits of rage John has pulled all the bristles out of the brush with his pliars, and I've soaked my hair in a bowl of water to loosen the brush. I was finally free with a mangled mess of hair resembling a small birds nest on the front of my head. So I re-wahsed my hair, pulling a couple of hand fulls out and half an hour later we're off to Thanksgiving dinner.

The moral of this story is do not ever, and I mean EVER use a hard little round brush that is only meant for guys. Guys who don't have that much hair in fact. Especially on Thanksgiving. I'm thankful for John that he took the time to get it out, while salvaging most of my hair, albeit at the expense of cutting off and tearing out the bristles from the brush he's literally had since junior high. Better it than me.