Sparks Fly

 

When I kissed my Studmuffin this morning, sparks flew. Even after 17 years, I still felt a jolt. It was electric. Even made me squeal a little!

Isn’t that sweet? Don’t you wish it was 12 degrees with zero humidity where you live? You, too, could get this same feeling every time you touched any freaking surface. Trust me – if the spark from my husband got me excited, the floor lamp and I are ‘bout to have a romp.

What the heck is up with this static? If I could harness the power of my fly-away hair, I could power the Upper Peninsula. Not a huge feat (or goal) but you know what I’m saying. Or possibly stick 100 balloons to a wall. You think there’s any money in that?

My dog rolls around on the floor and gets up looking like a Swiffer. My cat, not a fast learner, keeps putting his nose on things then jumping up, all four feet at once, when he gets zapped. Now my husband and I ground ourselves before we kiss. Oh, and it’s pretty important not to wear socks to bed. …just sayin’.

Southern girls don’t do static. We do hairspray. I guess I could try to lacquer it down? But I was raised to lacquer it up! I don’t get it.

I keep asking for solutions. “Welcome to Northern Michigan!” “One more thing to get used to, Dixie!” This is not helpful.

So far, I’ve conditioned into Uber-flatness. I’m all about the flat straight hair, but now I look like a Manson girl. Flat and straight just means the static-y hairs get more loft. Exorcist. These are not good looks.  I’ve sprayed it with Downey (a globby mess) and run a Bounce sheet all through it (greasy but Springtime Fresh). I still have to get a metal rod with which to redirect the electricity. To where? My hand?  The rod? What am I, the creepy Star Wars dude?

I could just do a hat. You can’t take it off, of course. That’s even more of a freak show. Plus, I look like crap in hats. So do you. Sorry.

My 14 year old doesn’t have this problem. He’s a dude. He just quit using shampoo. This is somehow in style. Idk why.

My bff’s don’t seem to have this problem. Is their hair acclimated somehow? Did Mother Nature just say, “I’ve been on that broad for years. Let’s find some Fudge to irritate.” If they have a secret, they’re not sharing it with me. I think that’s a little passive-aggressive, don’t you?  If we were in Texas, I would let them borrow my Final Net and my rat-tail comb! See? Now I’m irked.

Uh oh. I just caught my husband dragging his feet around the bedroom, grinning like a hyena. He’s coming in for the smooch!

He is so getting some sock tonight….