I had to dress up and look nice for something one day two weeks ago. In my case "looking nice" is a relative term. In reality, there's not much you can do with brillo hair, a deathlike pallor and the start of a turkey neck. At least not in the three hours I had allotted to me.
So I washed my hair and started to dry it carefully with my blowdryer. Usually I just hurry through this step and the hair on the crown of my head ends up flat. But this time I took my time, so that it had body, bounce and shine. My cowlick was behaving and there were no obvious nits. A heady success.
At which time I saw that the comb sitting on the sink was filthy with toothpaste so I rinsed it off under the faucet. I then noticed that my hair needed a little neatening up, so I ran the comb through my just dried hair. Except that the comb was still wet (though toothpasteless) and my carefully coiffed hair was now streaky-wet, rendering me looking as though I had just emerged from the shower.
I decided to forget my hair and concentrate on my make-up. I pulled my vial of Cover Girl lipstick from my cosmetic bag and attempted to apply it to my lips. Except that it broke in half and I ended up with half a stick of Berry Red sliding down my throat.
So now my hair is soaking wet, I'm choking on lipstick and it's time to go. But I knew that, had my mother been present, she would have been pleased, my having applied color to my lips.
This is a true story.