I redeemed the last little bit of my spa gift certificate today by getting fake nails. No, I am not a fancy lady. No, they don't go with my personal style since I don't really even shower "every" day and my outfit choices are based on what doesn't have to be ironed. Nevertheless, Sometimes I get my nails done when I'm teaching--it keeps the focus on my hands, rather than my lack of preparation--and my kids and husband love the nails for back-scratching reasons. Ever the selfless and devoted wife and mother, I obliged.
I really felt betrayed by the "nail artist." Last week as she was washing my feet she totally said she had been married for 3 months and we had a huge conversation about it. Today she wore no ring and repeatedly referred to her "boyfriend." What gives? It made asking probing questions, like I usually do, not even fun.
Then on the way home I heard that song by SR-71 called "1985" and realized it's about me. In my defense, old stuff is much funner for me to talk about but I do like some new things such as No Doubt, Peanut Butter M&Ms and AC/DC--oops, I did it again. But come on, wouldn't you rather talk about AC/DC than the Dave Matthews Band? (which isn't that new but compared to, say, Fleetwood Mac--it's downright fresh.) I like the Dave Matthews band but all I can say about the Dave Matthews Band is that there is a man in my ward who reminds me very much of Dave Matthews--to the point of making me nervous whenenver I'm around him. Not because I think he is Dave Matthews, but because I'm afraid he might think I think he is Dave Matthews. It's ridiculous.
So then I picked up some fish and fries at Arctic Circle and went home. The fish remains the highlight of my day--which is not to say I've had a bad day I just. . . how could she lie to me like that?