Monday, December 19, 2011
I cut my nails Saturday, shortly before putting the tree up. They were incredibly long. I let my nails grow until one breaks, then I cut them. Occasionally, as was the case Saturday, none has broken for a very long time, and I let them go. They don't really get in the way of typing, washing dishes, or gardening, because they are strong. However, eventually I notice they are a distraction to people. This has been true for about the past two weeks, as students in my classes, colleagues at the end of semester luncheon, and friends are mesmerized as I talk with my hands, and when that happens the attention starts to render me self-conscious and finally mute.
Bob advises to paint them instead of cutting them, but I can't figure out how having them bright pink or red would do anything but cause them to be more riveting - and also make them go from rather weird to extremely tacky. I don't dye my hair or wear make-up, as if I would sport fake nails (which is what abandoning natural would make them seem, I think). Regardless, the other motivation to cut them is that once they are this long, there is always the risk that a painfully short break will occur. So they had to go. I tend to procrastinate even once the decision has been made that the time is now, because it isn't that easy a task -- I have to set aside time to do it, as filing the sharp points after I cut them requires patience.
Anyway, that is a long, tedious preamble to this: while putting up the tree, somehow I jabbed myself, whether needle or ornament hook or something else I am not sure, and my left pinkie nail suddenly was soaked in blood. It took a while to get it stopped, and even today, my finger is sore. Maybe if I still had my sturdy talon it wouldn't have happened!