I was chopping a tomato tonight when I noticed I was missing a body part. Namely, the freakishly long pinkie nail on my right hand. Where just hours ago I was ruing the nail as a dust pan-collection of the world's yuck motes, now there was just a stubby nub of finger. And honestly, that stubby nub was a little sensitive to the touch -- the way any area of skin is when its protective shield is removed. [See: Turtles.]
"Now. Where did that go, I wonder?" I said, looking at my hand.
"What?" Asked Chuck.
"Meh. My fingernail. I knew it was loose, but ..."
We both looked at the pile of tomatoes. It didn't seem likely that it had gotten mixed in. Besides, it's not like I work at Subway. What's 3/4-inch of a pink fingernail between people who repeatedly kiss each other on purpose?
Anyway, as I was sitting here writing this, I saw another sliver -- about the same size as the missing nail -- next to the computer. But that one had blue nail polish, so I know it was older than today's missing nail. [Pink.]
Whatever. Of all things in the world, growing pinkie nails seems to be my greatest talent.