Diary #517

On Saturday, as I was working on setting the piers for my new bathhouse, my manicurist called to let me know that she’s opening on June 1^st; of course I made an appointment!  It will be so good for my hands to look and feel like those of a civilized lady again.  As of right now, I’ve got four broken ones (three on the right hand and the forefinger on my left), so not only do my hands look like shit, they’re also far less functional than usual.  I’m not used to hands without nails, which means my right hand is basically useless for fine work righy now (I am typing this with my middle finger) and I keep getting hairs, threads, etc snagged on the rough edges of the broken nails (which tear as they grow even if I file them).  And I don’t even like to look at my toenails.  Since I had my Botox week before last, now all I’m waiting for is my hair salon to call, so I can make these awful roots invisible.  Fortunately, it doesn’t grow all that fast, and I’m not due for a trim for a while yet, so I will not end up like Jonathan here (whom we’re probably going to have sheared soon).  And since the gent I call Dr. Quest has informed me that he’ll probably be able to see me soon, things for me are beginning to look like they’ll soon return to more manageable conditions.  And it’s about damned time.