A Friend to Comb my Hair

I debated about whether to blog this, because, ew.

We had lice.

If we have seen you recently, and you are itchy. We're sorry.

Virginia said her head itched this summer and I checked her for lice every time she mentioned it. But it wasn't until after we moved and I was doing her hair one morning that I actually saw a couple of the little buggers. Le sigh. Because just moving to a new city and starting a PhD program wasn't enough to worry about.

Lice suck. We bought some of the noxious shampoo (didn't use any on Horatio) and began the tedious daily process of nit picking with lice combs.

My kids don't have tons of hair, so combing their little heads hasn't been the worst thing ever. But then there is my hair. Thick, long, and unaccustomed to having each strand forced apart. (Hello frizz.)

And you're not supposed to just comb the hair. You are supposed to examine the scalp for lice and nits. I can't see my own head. I asked John if he would comb my hair and he said, "It's so long...."

It reminded me of "I Claudius." Early in the series, Tiberius is in the bath with his brother. (It's a Roman bath.) They have the following conversation:

Drusus: A man should keep himself clean, not have slaves do it.
Tiberius: And how's he supposed to scrape his own back?
Drusus: He gets his brother to do it.
Tiberius: If he hasn't got a brother?
Drusus: He gets his son.
Tiberius: If he hasn't got a son?
Drusus: Gets his friend.
Tiberius: And if he hasn't got a friend?
Drusus: Then he should go and hang himself.
Tiberius: I've tried it. Better to have a slave scrape your back. 

[The Romans would put oil on themselves and scrape it off to clean - if you're wondering about the whole back-scraping thing.]

We've just moved away from everyone. I don't have a sister here to comb my head. My daughter is too young. I don't have a close enough friend here yet.

Don't worry, I'm not considering hanging or slavery. Just hoping I can avoid becoming Emperor of Rome.