Sometimes I write multiple posts a day. Don't judge me.

Today I went with my mom to my old high school to help get ready for freshman orientation.

I was helping Mrs. Bunger roll boxes of new binders for the kids on rollie chairs to various classrooms, when the chair chunked off a piece of my toe skin. 

It kind of smarted, and no one had a band-aid or Neosporin, but I am what you might call a tough cookie, so I rubbed some spit on it and marched on my way.

I kid. I am as tough as a marshmallow. But I lived. 

Then I went to Savers, my most favorite thrift store in all the land.

And I totally picked out more than thirty things. 

{my monsterous pile of merchandise i started out with.}

And then I tried them all on and narrowed it down to like 13 things. And then down to 10. 

I am a hardcore thrifter. For reals.

Look at what we found along the way, though. It's a cat hanger. A cat in uniform hanger, to be exact. 

It made me happy to be alive. 

And then I went home, took a picture of the sky for my August Photo-a-Day challenge on Instagram, and colored my mom's hair. 

Here's what I don't understand. I wear gloves. Latex gloves, for the exact purpose of keeping my hands clean during haircoloring. So how come my fingertips always come out dark brown, or blue, or red, or whatever anyone bids me to color their hair? It is a mystery, it truly is.