Note to self...

must.  wear.  glasses.  to trim fingernails.  [sniff, sniff, Do we have any band-aids?]

Yep, my total denial came crashing to a nail quick nipping end as I was clipping my nails today.

First, it must be said that I view nail trimming as a sheer compromise to my otherwise unwillingness to submit to the pain of permanent nail removal, else they serve little purpose in my life.  I am not one of those women who enjoy manicures or nail color changes every other week [which, now that I'm thinking about it is strange, since I do enjoy a fun hair color change every 10 weeks.]

Yeah, I pretty much prefer to keep all routine maintenance as low maintenance as possible.  So fingernail trimming in my world follows the same gardening theology of the man from whom I bought my last house.  The old foursquare house stands on a corner with a double lot.  Many years ago, in an effort to provide some backyard privacy, a hedgerow of privet bush was planted.  Privet is a fast growing hedge, meant to provide......yep, savvy reader, you are QUICK.  Privacy.  It grows fast and it grows in every direction.  As a result, you can have a very nice and thick privacy green screen.  And the privet is happy, happy, happy.  The fellow who owned this house for a long time, however did not see eye to eye with the growing habits of the privet.  His solution?  Cut them low and cut them square and top those suckers with a table top trim!  The tighter the cut the better because that meant fewer trimmings.  Nothing wrong with that!

So my nails?  Yep, you got it.   Cut them low, cut them square, the tighter the cut, the fewer the trimmings.  I have no patience to trim and file and snip and nip and round and buff.  Nope.  Nadda.  None.  When I'm finished trimming my nails, like a nicely mowed lawn, you can see exactly where the clippers have been.  Who has time for rounding and filing?  For about the first three days, it's pretty much inconsequential because the nails aren't long enough to see the Toro like tacks.  But once those suckers start growing [why can't we control that growth by the way?  There should be a dial somewhere in which we could dial up/down hair and nail growth, don't you think?]  oh it's crystal clear where the grounds crew has been.  Like a 7th inning stretch, my 10 digits show clear evidence of a grounds crew gone awry.  A clubhouse party gone bad, with a late night double dog dare you to try the 2nd setting on the zero turn mower behind second base.  There are points and edges.  Uneven white with a jagged turn back to quick.  It's not pretty, friends. --This I know.  Yet, for some reason, I just don't care.   [It should be noted that this is a habit that drives Sweet Sarah crazy!  She can't understand how I can be so anal about so many other things, but not my nails.  I absolutely agree with her by the way.  Why am I so anal about other things, but don't care about my nails?  I don't know.  And I don't care....even when it's pointed out to me.]

But I digress.  Today, I learned that if I'm going to be able to maintain the 'cut 'em back until 2014 philosophy', first I must commit to wearing my glasses.  Because DANG if it doesn't hurt when the quick begins to bleed.

Sigh.  Is this a sign that I am indeed, less than one month from the big 4-0?

Let it commence that today begins the day whence I shall be stashing readers in every room of The Drayer, less I get the urge to buff and file.