Somebody was referred to my blog today because they typed ‘love high heel bunions’ into a search engine. Now that is creepy. I’m very, very proud.
I started biting my nails again. *sigh* It’s so gross, but I can’t stop. I bit my nails until I was 19 or 20 years old. My mom bites her nails, she always has. Since I started working in Louisiana, I’ve been getting acrylic put over my real nails and painted. Not quite fake nails, but still artificial. It looks magnificent, but since we decided to move back to Texas (and started saving loads of dough), I swore off the profesh manicures. Getting the acrylic removed was almost painful; instead of opting for the usual 1/2 hour removal soak, I told the manicurist that I’d be okay if she just “popped” the acrylic off. Meaning that she crammed a cuticle pusher down the length of my nail in order to pry the fake hard coating away from my delicate and damaged real nail beneath. It hurt. I winced by smiling and nodding, like no I’m fine keep digging! This was during my lunch hour, dammit; I didn’t want it to take up the entire hour.
Anyway, since I had the acrylic removed I’ve been gnawing on the thin, paper-like remains. In another quarter inch of growth the damage will be gone. I swear I’ll quit the biting by then. I’m such a nervous wreck, like a hyper poodle that has yet to be spayed. Every change, every uncertainty, every little blow of the wind makes me run for cover with my hand to my mouth. I just have to ride this next week out, then I’ll be golden.
The 16th through the 22nd, Drew and I will be unemployed. He has a job in Texas that he will start on the 26th, but I will not have a paying job. I’ll be a stay-at-home-mama. From the 15th to the 22nd, Ethan will be in daycare while Drew and I pack up the house. I figure we can get it all done in 3 days or less if we really try. One day to trash all that is trash (and there are a LOT of things that I want to throw away), one day to round up everything that needs to come with us and another day to box it all up. I really look forward to minimizing. There’s one area behind the recliner in the master bedroom that is ALL DREW. Tools, hats, trash, porn… who knows what is behind that chair. It’s outta site, outta mind, but I’m honestly scared to start digging through it all. I believe that will be his task. It’s only fair. My stuff will be a breeze to pack, Ethan’s too. Now D will finally suffer the consequences of being a pack rat that just tosses random shit in the corner of the room without thinking. I hope we don’t find any dead bodies or anything.
