Apparently I’m crazy.
Or at least I think I am.
It all started with a haircut. You see, I got a perfectly wonderful new ‘do from my hairdresser, whom I just love to pieces. (Chase Abston-McGriff at C’est Bon in Crestline, in case you are wondering.) It was a very chic bob with a point on the right that angled rakishly down toward my chin, giving me the appearance that I actually have one. The left side tucked neatly behind my ear. It was saucy. It was classy. It was very flapper.
It was asymmetrical.
And I couldn’t get past it.
No matter the compliments. No matter the sauce. Every time I looked in the mirror, all I could see was the asymmetry. Still, I thought I could live with it to be cute.
Husband, however, recognized the problem the minute I got home from the salon. “Nice haircut,” he said. “It’s longer on one side. How long before that drives you crazy?”
Husband doesn’t mince words.
“It won’t,” I lied. “It’s cute. And saucy. Very stylish. You don’t know anything.” And off I stormed to stare into the bathroom mirror, head tilted severely to the left to simulate symmetry.
Three weeks later, I was on the phone with Chase. “Do you think you could work me in? I love it, really, but it’s just not symmetrical. No, no, no! It’s not you. It’s all me. Four o’clock? Yes, I’ll be there.”
Thank the LORD. Symmetry was imminent.
But why did I even care?
Because I’m crazy. Crazy about symmetry.
I can’t stand it if the stripes on the sheets aren’t straight, even if I’m in the bed. A crooked picture drives me to distraction, and I will straighten the artwork in your home when you’re not looking. All the dinner plates must be one thumb joint from the edge of the table. And if the plates have a design, they must all face the diner. I like the coasters to be squared up with the edge of the table. If I hang a red Christmas ornament on the right side of the tree, there should be one on the left as well. I don’t like my car to be the only one in my two-car garage.
And, dammit, I like my hair to be even on both sides.
So this afternoon, I was back in Chase’s chair, with the comforting snip snip snip of his scissors in my right ear. Say what you will. Laugh if you want. I may be as crazy as the day is long, but at least I am [now! at last! finally!] symmetrical, and all is right with the world.