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… was to help me to get past a broken heart. A lost love. A loss of that happily ever after. A fairy tale ending. A …  well, you get the picture. And so what does a person do to get over a break up?

Okay, other than that.

As you know, my solution was this blog. Looking for something happy each day. So I’ve been blogging my socks off here, and lo and behold I was feeling pretty darned good about it all.

Until today.

The day started out well enough. I had my planned fun for the day … and was getting ready as I realized that today was one of those anniversary days. You know, where you remember today was the day when he … when you … when we …

And my heart dropped a few notches. So I quickly got ready and trekked over to where I was to get my hair done. New color. New style. New outlook. I thought. Needless to say, my mind was elsewhere.

Got there and looked for the coffee. Where was it? “Over there in the coffee machine”, she said.

Oh. There. Right in front of me.

So I looked carefully … and seeing no pot, decided that it was a one cup brewer. Putting my cup in the space allowed I asked how to operate it. “Push the button right there”, she said.

Oh. There. Right in front of me.

Now, not wanting to look more foolish than I already had, I saw the container holding the sugar. So I looked for one with creamer. Seeing none, I asked wherer the creamer was. “In the basket, right there.” she replied.

Oh. There. One packet. Left in the little basket that was in the big basket.

At this point I felt pretty confident and handily poured the sugar into the cup. Except … it didn’t really pour like sugar … because … it was creamer. So, in my most intelligent voice, ignoring the stares of the hair dresser and customers, I said “Oh, thats not sugar” to which she replied “No, its there in the little basket”

Oh. There. Where I got the other packet.

Now I would like to say that my day turned around magnificently from that point on. And in reality, part of it did. The friend who does my hair dyed it a beautiful dark, dark blond shade with highlights. And between the straight “bangs” and insanely rioting curls my look was complete.

Nice. Happy. And I headed home, balancing my new look atop my head.

Where I found the letter. From the folks with my medical records. Without divulging too much, suffice it to say that my curls and I share more than one trait. If you catch my drift.

Opening the letter I was faced with information I could cheerfully have lived forever not having seen. And I paid for this stuff? Detailed stuff. Strange stuff. Who were they talking about anyway? And what did all those medical terms mean?

Note to self: For the next time you get the brilliant idea to check your medical records with lots and lots of scary medical terms …