Should I openly admit that I’ve had two, yeah that was two, naps today.

Look. I’m a napper. I love the nap, hell I live for the nap. Granted these naps were very short, and were after I finished working … this is what super early mornings will do to you, People.

It might be a different story if I went to bed prior to midnight. Last night is yet another perfect example. And I know I shouldn’t keep telling this story to continue the perpetuation of it, but right now, I’d just like to say a nice F you to Law Of Attraction.

I will tell my story, anyway, thankyouverymuch.

So The BF is working late and I’m home by my lonesome, which is totally cool, I adore alone time. Murphy and I were snuggled up together in front of the roaring fireplace {my new fave spot in our home} and I had a great meditation and journaling session.

Higher Self was just beaming with pride, in the way only Higher Selves can. And even Higher Self thought, omfg, tonight is the night, you are totally going to bed early.

Well that was a bit too much excitement for me to even contemplate, and of course come 10:30, am all jacked up. Shower didn’t help matters either.

Then The BF comes home and we catch up. People, it’s never really a smart idea — at all — to share your day after 11p.m. It only adds to further jackedupification.

So then finally at midnight, I’m like : yo, fo real. It’s bedtime, Boo.

I walk up stairs and brush my teeth and this is when it happens. I start flossing and I see something discolored out of the corner of my eye.

Ignore. Whatever. I’m seeing things. Happens all the time.

But naturally, I just can’t ignore it. I look again. HolyhellMaryofJoseph! A gray hair. A legit one, People!

Sticking straight up off the top of my head. Is that what gray hairs do … they get bent all out of normal hair shape and can go all haywire on your ass?

Of course I was like, death be to you, Gray Hair. You will die. And I plucked him. I don’t know why I’m referring to gray hair as a “him” — I just am. Immediately I pulled out the tweezers, and voila! Be gone, ye gray. I breathe a sigh of relief. That was a little close for comfort. Except.

Except I just couldn’t leave well enough alone. Oh, no. I had to go looking for trouble. I should know better, that when there is one, there are many.

Like a true hair psychopath, I start carefully combing and brushing. Hoping and praying that there was nothing else to find.

Then being absolutely devastated that I found probably 15. 15!!!! WTF. 15 gray hairs, People! This really isn’t the kind of thing I want to be sharing so … openly … but damn, if I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it all day.

And feel like I’m 55. Not that there’s anything wrong with 55 and that it’s old but aren’t I way too young for gray hairs? Aren’t I?

I mean, I just used the Gray Hair Authority, Google, and even Google assures me that the average age on set of gray hair in women is 35.

Alright. I need to stop. Just plain stop. This really isn’t a road I want to be going down. Besides, isn’t this what Clairol is for? I know there’s zillions of other brands out there, but Clairol is the only one coming to mind. Well done, advertising.

So I need some hair dye. Whateves. That’s cool. Even though that, too, scares me. I’ve never — ever — colored my hair. Yeah, a total 1%er here.

Please. I beg of you, tell me I’m not alone. Tell me your stories of gray. Make me feel better about myself during this trying time.

My grays and I all thank you in advance.