so today . . . has been a collection of horrors! and most of them have revolved around my new nail polish.
you see, it is spring now--heralded by the arrival of easter and warmer temperatures. it is time to get out the shorts and sandals and put the sweaters and boots out of sight. and for me, it is also time to put away the really dark nail polish and lighten up a bit.
nail polish is a pretty cheap indulgence, and a new color can enhance my mood in a positive direction. the problem this time was, i got the craving for a new nail color after 9:00 p.m. when both sephora and ulta were closed. this reduced me to shopping at target as they are open until 10:00 p.m.--which also limited my choices. however, i did manage to find a pretty springtime color and headed home feeling happy.
until this morning . . .
to my horror, after just one day, the bright pink nail polish was chipped on several of my nails! and i don't mean tiny little chips either--i mean great big hunks of it missing. and because of the way i plan my mornings (ok, maybe "plan" isn't exactly the right word--maybe "race through" would be more accurate,) there was no time for repair work. so i threw the bottle of defective polish into my bag and headed out the door.
some people might be able to move throughout their day without giving this another thought. i am not one of those people. i knew this was going to affect my whole day . . .
it was a busy morning--no time for repairs. so i just tried to tuck the chipped fingernails out of sight as much as possible and watched the clock and waited until my lunch break. and waited. and waited.
story time rolled around, and i began to read. but as i am holding the book (which i had to do with unclutched fingers) i can see the big, chipped nails. and then, when i point at something in one of the pictures with my left index finger, which is the worst one, i immediately recoil--from my own hand! not good not good not good . . .
ok, i can keep my hands in my pockets during recess, and i have to wear serving gloves at lunch time, so if i can just get through that, then i can do the repair work . . . but i have not taken into account the deterioration of the manicure. by now, more than half the fingernails are affected and in a major way.
so, at recess i am holding my phone (because, guess what? i don't HAVE pockets today) and i am texting diandra about my sad state of affairs. she is my precious, loving daughter. she will feel my pain. i even send her a photo (which none of you will ever see) because in all her 24 years, she has never seen my nails look this bad, and i want her to know what i am up against. a few seconds later, i receive a picture back--from her dad. (remember the wonderful blog i wrote about him yesterday? i take it all back!) there he is, mocking the claw-like pose of my hand with his own clean and trimmed nails, while smiling faces (including my precious offspring, who i labored for 28 hours to bring into this world!!!) leer at me in the background. ok, i'm thinking, diandra is toast . . . that picture was for her eyes only! the three of us exchange text messages--they think theirs are funny. i do not, and my return messages reflect that.
finally it is my lunch time. BUT since i was in such a rush this morning, i did not bring food to school with me, which means a trip to a fast food establishment. which means the repair work must be put off yet again, as i only have half an hour for lunch.
i pull into the drive through at chick-fil-a and order. as i approach the window and pull out my wallet, i realize that the window is on the left side of me--MY WORST HAND. it's ok, i tell myself. i live in a large metropolitan area. what are the odds that i will see the people at this window ever again.
"hey, there's the lady in my miata!" these are the words that greet me from the young man waiting to give me my food and take my money. yes, we have talked several times before. he covets my car, and so he always remembers me. but i am thinking, "oh no! oh no! oh no!" as he hands me my food. i put my hand underneath the bag as i reel it in, so as to hide the offending nails. this is a little bit of a risky move, in that if the bag is unbalanced it could fall to the ground. but i am willing to take that risk as long as it keeps my horrible nails hidden. so far, so good.
and then, it is time to pay. i take my atm card out of my wallet, only to discover that there is no way to hand it to him without exposing the chips. i panic just a moment, and then sandwich the card between my fingers, turn my hand over so the palm is up (hoping i look casual) and flip it out the window. he takes the card with no problem. but when he hands me back my receipt and atm card, i am busted. there is no way to take it without displaying the disgraceful chipped polish. so i snatch my card as quickly as i can, say thank you, and zoom-zoom out of there.
i just know the next time i see him at the window, he will greet me with the words, "hey, it's the lady with the horribly chipped bright pink nail polish! i can't believe you have the guts to come here again!"
the rest of my afternoon is uneventful, because it is just me and jonathan--and my embarassing fingernails. and jonathan is too involved in his own stuff to notice. either that, or it just looks normal to him. because, you know, some people do walk around with big hunks chipped out of their nail polish, and it apparently doesn't bother them.
but for me, i couldn't take it. i felt unsettled all day. i raced home and headed for the nail polish remover! and heaved a big sigh of relief.
and then diandra said, "hey mom! want to go to the beauty supply store with me? you could get some nail polish . . . "
my family. they are funny, funny people . . .