Oh, my goodness! I’m 0-2! This is my second loss to the tile floor this week. I don’t remember the last time there was broken glass in my house, but this week two slices of my life have included red liquid and broken glass! (First post here)
This morning I woke up and had an idea to enjoy a pedicure. I got my Epsom salts and hot water ready in the plastic wash tub. I brought along an emery board, nail polish and clippers. Oh, well, I thought, since I don’t have nail polish remover I no doubt can scrap off the old stuff because it’s got to be from last summer, or I’ll just go over it with a fresh coat.
I sat down at the tub. The water was still a little too hot, so I was tiptoeing in. It didn’t take long for my feet to get accustomed to the temperature, so I settled in and began to enjoy the soak. I reached for my tea latte, which my husband had brought me to enjoy while I pampered myself.
However, there was a different plan for my morning. When I reached for my tea, my elbow swept the fingernail polish off the table and onto the tile floor.
This was the first time in my life that I broke a bottle of fingernail polish. And, oh, yes, I remembered I didn’t have nail polish remover, so after I sent a text to my neighbor to see if she had some, I tried to mop up the globs with tissues.
I also poured and scrubbed with a half bottle of White Spirit, which may be a British kind of turpentine. You needed a lot of elbow grease with that stuff and it mostly wasn’t coming off.
One of my first thoughts was of Maureen, who had a couple of posts this week, where she toyed with the idea of getting old because of a couple of things that happened to her. (Here and here) My follow up thought: “Am I getting old?” Or is it this tile floor that seems to have been hiding for eight years, and now is opening up a can of whoop-ass!
My neighbor responded to my earlier text and the nail polish remover definitely did its magic. I cleaned up the spill and got ready with a few minutes to spare before my first class at 7:45.