A few things that went through my mind while reading this morning's post. I'll spare you the extremely boring bits and just share the moderately boring ones.
First:
Mondonna's answer to J's admiration of her nails was 'Get polish?'. And J was impressed by that? J has heaps of polish. She 'gets' polish on a fundamental level. Oh, oh I see. It actually says GEL polish. That makes more sense.
Then, in response to that photo:
J has such lovely hands. What a lovely nailpolish colour. So right for winter.
Then, after gazing at my hands:
Stupid peasant hands. You are the hands of a woman who comes from a long line of potato gleaners. Why can't you be more like your crabsister J's mitts?
Then, when it transpired that Chickpea joined J at Tips and Toes:
What a magical night! That would have been taking place while I was watching At World's End, the shittest movie ever at a cinema in Manly on Friday night. I was wishing the world would end while those guys' lives were just beginning, sort of.
Then, when I saw the photo of the chipped nails:
Oh, poor J. I must tell her that I know some people who, after a few manicures, choose their favourite colour and buy a bottle. They take the bottle with them to Tips and Toes or wherever and then can patch up if needs be. It's smart thinking. I must tell J about that.
And this is me telling J about that.
The dream is NOT over.
It's just a modified one where you either can't try heaps of new colours when you get a fortnightly manicure, or you can't do house renos in the days after.
But apart from those restrictions the dream is very much alive.
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