One Monday, I had decided I wanted to get my hair all chopped off. It had been growing for nearly three years, and that was long enough. I grow it out so I can donate it to Locks of Love, and I usually try to get it cut while in the States so I can get a nice salon cut for free. This time, though, I couldn't take it any longer. So I made an appointment at the salon across the street, Mokoko. It wasn't cheap, but I had a 40% voucher. I figured it was worth it to get rid of the mane. I booked in for Thursday.
Then on Tuesday I went to have lunch with Lynch. She got an hour break from work, and we went to Subway. It was not a great experience, and I'm not all that sad that they are still closed for flood damage months later. I'll go to the one in the Hub if I ever have sub cravings again. Grrrrr. Of course, it was good to hang out with Liz, as always. Then I went home... and couldn't get into the flat. I thought the lock was stuck, as we've had some trouble with it sticking before. The door was loose in its jamb, but it wasn't open. And I couldn't get the key to turn for anything. I texted Kenny, and went down to sit in the cafe at Morrison's while I waited for him to get off work.
Three hours later, I went back to meet Kenny at the flat. He couldn't get in, either. Eventually he had to just shoulder the door in. We both just thought it was the lock, and he'd bought a replacement a while ago, just waiting for the time we'd need it. There were some random weird things, but nothing really seemed amiss yet. We just thought from all our shoving and shoulder and pounding to get it we'd knocked some stuff loose. While Kenny got to fitting the new lock, I went in to check my email in the lounge.
Wait. Did I leave my lappy in my room? Did I move it? No... it was here... and where's Liz's lappy? Oh. No. Kenny... we've been robbed!
It was horrible. We lost three laptops, both of our diary/filofax/organisers, a gold chain, a wallet with US store cards, a digital camera, and a thumb drive. But on the thumb drive and on my hard drives (well, mine and Liz's I was borrowing) was all my thesis work. All of it. Six years. I was freaking out, to say the least.
I only ended up losing two weeks' worth of work, because my latest draft had been sent to my supervisor two weeks prior (duh), and I had that in my outbox still. So at least there was that... but I had to cancel my UK chequebook (which was a hassle and may be contributing to my current visa problems), change all my login details everywhere, and am still trying to get address and contact details back for everyone (if you want me to have your address and phone number, please email them to me). It was a nightmare. The police came 'round and took our statements, we had to give our fingerprints for exclusion so they could dust (they didn't get anything), and the insureance... well, that's another nightmare in itself. Kenny got two new locks installed while I was away the next week, plus a baseball bat. Well, it's not a real baseball bat-- it's too short and too light. But it's close enough. So we're prepared now.
Then two days later I got my hair chopped off. And then I left for two weeks, to go to Alva and write as if my life depended on it. In a way, it did.
Photos from the haircut and from prior to knowing I'd been robbed and just thinking I'd been locked out are here and here. As always.
I do recommend donating your hair to Locks of Love if you have ten inches or more to cut. I do not recommend getting your flat robbed. Not that you have much choice about that, really. We didn't. I was only gone for two hours... boooo.