So, let's see...what did I do today? Yes, it has come to this; boring little reports on what I did during any given day. Gah. But this is what happens when housewives get bored (despite what the tv wants you to believe happens when housewives get bored).
Where was I? Oh yes, boring you stupid...today I actually had some fun. But first, a small bit about yesterday. Yesterday, I had my mom give me an instant French manicure. I have a wedding to sing in this weekend and I would like to put forth the appearance of professionalism. So, in addition to learning my music real good, I've decided I must be well-groomed and ladylike. Hence, the manicure. Le French manicure. A little side note to the side note, I used to, a few years back, go every 2-3 weeks to a little hole-in-the-wall salon and get acrylics. I was meticulous about my nails, it was kind of my thing. Secretly, I figured if I was going to be fat, I was at least going to have fabulous nails to offset it. Unfortunately, several years of that wrecked my natural nails but good. And the budget tightened. So the oh-so-lovely but ravaging acrylics had to go. Sigh. Anyway, I now keep my natural nails nicely manicured, but only to the point of looking neat and trim, not very fabulous. But not anymore! Looky!
Now, I'll thank you to keep in mind those aren't my actual for-real nails. My camera is still missing and my computer still comatose. All I can do is search Google for images that most closely resemble what I want share. It's kind of weird, but I kind of like it. It's like an enhanced version of my life. And, yes, that's rather pathetic.
Those hands, oddly enough, look almost like mine. The rings are different, of course; I don't wear thumb rings and rarely take off my wedding and engagement rings, but the fingers are similar and the nails are a perfect match! Maybe this unknown woman is my hand twin! But enough.
This afternoon, after what is quickly becoming a daily necessity due to my seemingly incurable insomnia, my morning nap, I got myself gussied up and ventured forth to get a pedicure so's my toes could match my fingers. Salons kind of intimidate me, especially the ones with Asian women who I just know are talking mockingly about me right in my face because they know I can't understand them. But I had a gift certificate from Christmas and with all the flip-flops I've been wearing lately, and the need to look polished and professional for the wedding, I decided to brave it. So now my feet look less like this:
and more like this:
Again, not my feet, but close enough. See? Pretty! And my feet and legs feel so silky soft and smooth! The massage chair was a little treacherous, and I blundered my way through the entire process, from not wearing the right pants (I was scolded and told I should have worn shorts) and not knowing when to dunk my feet, to not having a clue how much to tip the poor girl sentenced to de-gunk my gnarly feet. I think I may have tipped her a ridiculous amount. I asked her how much was typical and plunked down the amount she said. She probably recognized a good thing when she saw it and robbed me blind. But considering what she had to go through to get her tip and considering I had a gift certificate and didn't have to pay anything for the actual pedi, I really don't care.
After the pedi, I dragged Redheaded Snippet into the kitchen to help me get an early dinner prepared before I had to dash out to meet The Viking at wedding rehearsal. After using up sickening amounts of time and gas getting to the church, I was dismayed to find there really was no point in us being at the rehearsal at all. Nothing seemed to get accomplished, we had to interrupt the pastor and wedding coordinator to get all our cues, and we still had to stay after everyone else had left for the rehearsal dinner to work out all the kinks with the sound equipment. What a frustrating night.
And now I can't sleep. Everyone else lies in slumber deep and I languish on the couch watching bad tv and trying to rype coherently. See why I'm napping all my mornings away? I think I'm going to brew a nice, hot cuppa, make some crunchy cinnamon toast, and see if I can't get my fevered brain to grind to a slow enough halt for me to sleep.