Obsessed with painting my nails. As a part of one of my New Year's Resolution in service of a never-ending goal, I decided to keep my fingernails decked out in the fun and festive palette of nail polish that clutters our bathroom closet. Three weeks in, I'm on my third color. I mostly love the extra-special fancy feeling that the glints of color on my fingertips provide and the forced minutes of doing nothing more strenuous than tapping out a blog post on my phone that the paint drying time necessitates. And yet, the little nicks and chips that develop in the otherwise smooth facade transport me back to my angsty preteen days in which my jeans needed to be re-pegged several times in the morning to get my tight-roll in the optimal position, my socks had to perfectly match my shirt (slight fading of a pair of socks meant they got surreptitiously discarded into my mother's sock drawer), and my morning curling-iron-hairspray-teasing bang routine could leave me in tears. While I have probably retouched my fingernails' paint job more times than is healthy for my psyche and my brain (paint fumes), living with the imperfections inherent in me doing my own nails and also doing the dishes reminds me that I survived all the internal and external drama of growing up and that I'll survive whatever comes my way in the future, even if my nail polish doesn't.
Done with (literally speaking) knitting this scarf and reading these books. I used up some leftover yarn to make this scarf.
Stressed about the weather. I love bad weather as long as I don't have to go out in it. This week the weekend was fine but the work day weather was really not conducive to a 45 mile commute. I hate having to make the decision to bail on work to get home safely.
Finding funny: Why Not Me? by Mindy Kaling. I'm a sucker for a clever turn of phrase.


