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.
4 comments:
as long as i've known you, i will never understand why you choose to polish the freakishly long nail instead of cutting it. - fannie
haha you brought back a memory of helping my older cousins make a huge vat of fruit salad for my grandparents' 50th anniversary party. One of the cousins held up her hand (the hand she had been mixing up the fruit salad with), and it was missing two fingernails!
we searched and searched but never found the nail, and none of us could eat the fruit salad, even though there were leftovers for days and days. :)
you totally cut it off. i'm sad for you.
i'm speechless.
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