Whomever invented the idea that polishing one’s nails was a strapping idear must have mastered the art of graceful hand usage after said polishing. Either that or they didn’t mind polishing their dagnabbed nails on an hourly basis. I’m not a nail polisher… once in a blue moon I’ll get a wild hair and polish up the ole ugly nails only to remember seconds later exactly why I never do it. I polished my nails on Saturday night and by Sunday night they done looked like I’d been baling hay for 72 hours. WHAT THE!?!?!?!? Two of the nails got smudged when I opened my clothes hamper. Another two got smudged whilst I was peeling an eggplant and the peeler missed the eggplant 8 times. Then, there was the time I was wiping down my window well tracks with a Clorox wipe and jammed 3 of the fingers into the metal runner. The other 3 smudged making my bed. Now, I’m sitting here typing this here story with 10 smudged fingernails and no nail polish remover in sight. I’m a hopeless case. How do y’all nail polishing people do it? Gloves? Using your feet? Maybe y’all are just less accident prone then I am. I once fell backward over a couch arm trying to juggle (literally juggle… like a clown juggling) 2 oranges and sprained my wrist. Wrists are a favorite injury of mine.
That said, tonight I made baked (not fried) eggplant parmesan… calorizing friendly. I made it so I could divy it up in containers and eat it for dinner every night this week, but I have a feeling by day Tuesday, it will turn into one big mushy mess of mushy eggplant pieces. It’s very time consuming that eggplant parmesan. I haven’t tasted it yet to know if it turned out decent, but if it tastes horrid when I eat it tomorrow night, I might have to come to your house for dinner. Be there around 9ish… PM! I would post a picture of said eggplant parm, but the picture happens to be on my camera and sadly I’m too lazy to go and get it. Too much effort. Besides that baking in the summertime weather is not a great idea… thus, next week’s menu will include microwavable and/or raw refrigerated items. Mark my words, sweatbox! It would be fine if this house had air conditioning, but it does not. We call the ceiling fans air conditioning round these here parts.
Meanwhile, if I don’t show up for posting next week, call 911. There seems to be a commotion going on outside of my bedroom window right at this moment and I’m not entirely sure if it’s someone sleepwalking or there’s a party in the yard… or that serial killer from that episode of 48 Hours I watched last night has been released on bail. What are the chances he would know I wasn’t a fan?
Peace out, my friends. Hope your week is full of memory making!
Question of the Day: Are you a nail polisher? How often do you do it and how long does it stay smudge-free?
I passed this fork sticking out of a telephone pole on my walk the other night. Mmmmkay… just in case someone gets the urge to make a grass salad, you have your eating utensil right here.