Get behind me, hair

You know how sometimes a week comes when it seems like your head is glued to the pillow and not even the hyperactive sun can break the bond? When the radio man yells at you the first time the alarm goes off, so you hit snooze and then he yells a again so you give him one more chance? When adding water and coffee to the pot in the right places takes way too much fumbling and thought? When you bow your head to pray, and stare blankly at your lap for undefined periods of time instead?
Well I've had one of those weeks.
It takes so long to do the routine that I've been running late. And, since my focus is mostly on keeping my eyelids propped open I am not all that concerned with glam.
Weeks like this make me so grateful for hair bands. Instead of thirty minutes with a flat-iron, I spend five. So what if the results are a lopsided bun. I don't have to see it.
I have got no spiritual tie-in for this. If y'all can see one, please share. I'm just happy that my hair is still out of my face!