About a week and a half ago, I cracked one of my fingernails in half. Not enough to go all the way down to the nailbed, but definitely enough to cause some considerable discomfort. After reading up online, I found out that I could bond the two sides together with nail polish, at least until they grow out a bit, so that they don’t rub against each other and so that the tissue underneath has the chance to heal.
**cue me buying nail polish** – for reference sake, I feel obligated at this time to point out that it was clear nail polish.
Anyway, turns out I’m not really good at painting my nails, so I glob it on a bit too thick and it bubbles up and kinda makes a sparkly effect. Which makes the nail that much more conspicuous, which sucks. But I do take a bit of quiet joy that this nail painting thing doesn’t seem to be for me.
**Fast forward to today**
The nail polish was coming off and so the two sides of the crack were beginning to come apart from one another.
So I went across the hall to the girl that just moved in to see if she had any nail polish remover. She just borrowed my vacuum cleaner the other day, so I figured fair was fair, plus I could get my vacuum back.
Anyway, I knock on the door and she answers it wearing this lululemon shorts and bra top combo.
I explain my predicament and I get the nail polish remover and head back to my place. The stuff works like a dream and then I go to return it.
I knock on the door and she yells to come in. She’s laying on the floor doing situps or stretches or yoga or something in the same, rather revealing, attire.
So I put the nail polish remover by the sink in the bathroom and then head back across the hall to paint my nails.
Probably safe to say that she thinks I’m gay…
…but I am getting pretty good at painting my nails…