Catching my reflection in the salon mirror, I pause to admire my freshly washed and blow-dried hair. My fringe falls just above my eyebrows. Layers of soft bouncing curls frame my face just so. The crown is gently but deliberately backcombed to give the impression of height, of body, of volume.
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Oh dear. I don’t know why I did this, rashly, the evening of 29 February. Leap Day. I took a leap. Maybe because I have a completion date on the vicarage looming and I need help, someone to share it with, and who is willing to change light bulbs*, heave boxes and dog-sit. Cook.