If you missed my earlier posts, no worries, I can bring you up to date on my quest to find the just right nail salon pretty quickly. I went to one salon and they were too hard and I went to another salon and they were too soft. I went back to my regular place and I thought they were just right- except.
Apparently, not really.

Because I didn’t want to go back.

So I just didn’t go for a long time.

And then I thought, “You know, if you don’t want to go to your nail place, um, maybe you should try a different place.” I had an in-person thing coming up too, and wanted to look nice and professional, so there was an incentive.

So I looked at a bunch of places on line and made an appointment at one. Which was good, because when I was tempted to not go, I remembered they charged a no-show fee, and I went.

It was a lovely place. I didn’t even have to pick my colors from a wall of bottles, they brought me a card with a bunch of colors and had me choose one while my feet soaked in the foot bath, warm water and jets roaring.

The pedicure was really lovely. I upgraded from the regular to some fancy option that came with smell-good products in the foot bath, exfoliating scrubs, and lots of massaging. Mmmmmm. It was lovely. And my toes look good.

My finger nails? Not so much. It was fine, until he did the polish. If you’ve never had a manicure with colored polish, they put on a base coat, 2 layers of color, and then a top coat. But this polish was so thick, he only did one layer of colored polish. I was concerned about that, but I didn’t say anything. He’s the expert, right?

Only after he said it was dry, and I paid him, I went to the bathroom. I was worried about whether they were 100% dry or not. I was being as careful as I could possibly be. And despite that, the act of pulling down my pants, practically stripped both my thumbs of polish. It pulled it back and left it in a big wrinkly glob at the bottom of the nail, with just red smears left behind.

It was awful. So he took all the nail polish off my thumbs, but he had to use a ton of polish remover to do it, so when he started putting polish back on again, it looked weird, like a different color. He kept adding more to make it darker, but it still looked wrong.

Then he realized he was actually using the wrong color. So he took it all back off (of my thumbs) and did it over again. So I had to wait an extra long time for it to dry. Finally, after about 10 minutes, another guy, who was at the station next to where I’d been left to dry, said, ”You’re done, you can go,” like I should have left a long time ago. I rolled my eyes. Not where he could see me, just in my own head.

Then he said, ”You be careful, now,” in a slightly admonishing tone, and I thought, “Oh, hell, no, you be careful yourself! This was not my fault!”

But I didn’t say anything.

And all that wouldn’t have mattered, probably. But yesterday, just a few days after the polish, I realized that my fingernails are already looking shabby. All of them.

Ugh, I could call this, ”Saga of a Poor Little White Girl without Any Real Problems to Worry About.” Or “The Story of the Unsatisfied Princess.”

But these are the things I apparently think about, even though there’s an invasion of the Ukraine, a pandemic of uncertain status, poverty, injustice, and so much more. I won’t apologize either, because this is just how we tend to be. It’s human nature.

But… if I had a Dom… If I only had a Dom…

Some corner time and a good spanking would probably set my priorities straight in no time. Or at least distract me from myself. Sigh.

I picture myself in Oz, following the yellow brick road, singing along with the Tin Man, ”If I only had a Dom…”