It’s Sunday night. I’m succumbing to the stress of facing another Monday. So rather than watch excessive amounts of my main squeeze Gordon Ramsay, I decided to scrub the tub, work on the drains and update my hair.

I thought I’d trim my hair— the teenager offered to help me but the timing hasn’t worked out. I thought before I cut it maybe I’d dye my hair. When this is all over, I can get a short haircut and remove the color if I get sick of it or it causes trouble at work.

Phase I

I don’t have any hair bleach at home, as it’s been at least two years since I ventured into Manic Panic realm. But I did find some old cream bleach so ancient that it had burned the inside of the box. It has been at least a decade since I started waxing my upper lip instead of bleaching it.

So I mixed it up and smeared it into my hair. As it percolated, I scrubbed the tub with baking soda and poured about half a large bottle of vinegar down the drain while plunging. That should help free our pipes.

Next I’m going to start the tea pot and pour boiling water and ammonia down there before I rinse the bleach off my head.

Phase II

Poured some ammonia and the boiling hot water down the tub drain. Now to rinse my hair of the bleach mixture.

My hair has a few paler spots — a little redness here and there. My drain didn’t fare much better. I even used the barbed snake thing and I don’t see a difference in water drainage speed.

Phase III

The teenager is smearing Manic Panic into my hair— we have an aquamarine color from one of the times we dyed her hair in her pre-marching band days and some Green Envy Intensified. We also found Argan Oil Hair color in green and magenta.

The teenager has splattered hair dye liberally.

Your head looks like a fifth grader’s art project and a unicorn threw up on your face.

The teenager, remarking on the quality of her work

Phase IV

The only time I use my hair dryer.

Now to watch TV— my main squeeze Gordon Ramsay— while my hair dries some more. I used the blow dryer but my hair is so thick I’d have to bake it for days.

My buffalo chicken spaghetti squash casserole did not hit the spot for the teen, so we ended up splitting a can of Spaghettios with meatballs. Nala, my Goffin’s cockatoo, approved.

Phase V

Shower. As soon as this episode of Hell’s Kitchen is over. There’s a contestant on the red team from Bethlehem, Pa. That’s where my husband and I met at Moravian College while earning our English degrees.

My hair is nice and crispy. This should be interesting.

The magenta hair dye went everywhere in the shower, and despite all my efforts with the drains I was standing with dark purple water up to my ankles.

Phase VI

I plunged the tub while waiting for the teenager to come up and give my hair a trim. The plunger split. Which might explain why I haven’t had much luck with the drain. The plunger has not been getting a good seal.

Phase VII

The teen — who has no experience or knowledge in hair— gives me a haircut. I wanted her to trim a few bushy errant pieces but I told her to cut what she wanted. She used my sewing scissors.

It looks good. Can only see some magenta in this evening light.