Yes, I've returned from Chicago having learned two very important lessons:
1. Geckos make nice brooches.

2. Geckos are safer than handguns.

3. (This is really on its own since I learned it in St. Louis, but...) I was brushing my hair tonight, and my hairbrush broke in my hair. I've been growing this stuff out for years, but it's driving me crazy. I learned this evening that my hair is more than long enough to donate, so I think I may be chopping it off soon. Any thoughts?
Every time I make a drastic hair change, I instantly regret it and get depressed. I think it's some sort of strange desire to be Rapunzel. However, I currently live in a one-story house, so I don't think that dream's coming true any time soon anyways. Might as well stop torturing myself with this extremely hot hair in St. Louis summer heat.