Last night, I meandered onto a pier with three old friends to watch the sunset. What resulted was three very wet, very cold alums and a girlfriend looking on in horror to see if she was next. It was a blast. I haven’t had that much fun in a very long time, until Jimi lost his class ring in the lake. Luckily, we went out with a metal detector and found it. Phew! Last night left me with an extremely limited amount of sleep and lake-washed hair. I expected this morning to wake up with a terrible bird’s nest hair and throwing it up in a careless ballerina bun before rushing off. What I actually found were perfect ringlets, evenly distributed volume, and no frizz. I added a small barrette and left five minutes early because of my luck. This turn of events is making me wholly reconsider all hair-regimens I have developed. Towel-drying or no towel-drying, plopping, no poo, spending way too much money on a flat iron, and any spray developed. Why spend all this time and dedication on your hair when all it really needs is a dip in the lake?