At Last

I'm two days post pedicure, and all seems to be well on the toe-front. Either my expectations have fallen prey to the Colorado standard, or I have finally found a nail salon that does a semi decent job. My experience was not without incident, however. Once again, the labels had been removed from the nail polish leaving me to make a selection without proper introduction. I tried my best to get acquainted with each color before making a decision, and I thought I knew what I was getting into when I made my choice. Unfortunately, what I thought was a festive pink was, in fact, a cheerful orange. To be honest, the whole ordeal was eerily reminiscent of my dating life. Seriously, how many times have I been 45 seconds into a date when I was overwhelmed by the realization that I had mistakenly chosen "Your Royal Shyness" over "I Pink I Love You"? One too many, I tell you.

There isn't much to say about the rest of my time at the nail salon. This is due in large part to the fact that my appointment lasted all of about thirty minutes, and much of that time was spent allowing various lotions and chemicals to "soak" while my nail technician tended to an assortment of nail salon chores. I might have felt neglected under normal circumstances, but this was the official beginning of my summer vacation. Not even orange toes and a Ritalin deprived nail tech were going to steal that moment from me.