I spent the day on Thursday running errands with my best friend. She is crazy busy so one of the few ways we can spend time together is riding in her car picking up and dropping off. We talk and ride and then talk some more. We mull over our children's situations, complain about a couple of particularly obnoxious businessmen in our small town, and generally unload until the next time.
One of our errands involved my freind getting her fingernails repaired and filled. She's the nervous sort and she had a really bad night on Wednesday so she picked the acrylic stuff right off every nail on her left hand. The Asian nail technician tut tutted over the damage and told her it would take at least an hour to repair so instead of picking up a magazine I decided to "git me some" of those purty fingernails.
I chose "Solar Nails" because I like the look of a french manicure; no polish, just a lovely white tip and pretty pink nailbeds. The process took an hour and involved files, and sanders and a dremel tool that reminded me of a dentist's drill. The whirring nearly made my knees weak. One sniff of clove oil and I would have started sweating.
I've had the new inproved nails for four days and I think I have become disabled. Just to show you what I mean I'll type a sentence without backspacing. I cfan't pick up a penny off the counter at work and I have to ask strangers to open pop[ cans for me. See what I mean?
How do women function with fake nails? I've been fignthing the urge to soak them off all day but the forty dollars I spent getting them keeps calling out to me. My hands are lovely. I could offer my hands to photographers for bridal hand shots.
I'm sure the camera guy wouldn't mind opening my can of Diet Coke.
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