In honor of the pioneers who sweat and toiled coming out to Utah, I got my nails done today. I know many of those women would have loved clean polished, lovely nails,( among other things like food, a nice bed, etc.), so I decided to get my nails done since they couldn't along the dusty trail. If that sounds too sanctimonious, we'll go with me getting my nails done since Juan had to work on this holiday and I was bored.
Now, those of you who have had your nails done, raise your hand. Great. Those of you who have had your hands done by a women. Great. The rest of you who have always had your nails done by a man are with me. Every time I go in to do them, which is not often, a man always does them. I have no problem with that, though I always wonder if it's an aspiration or a back-up or their temp job. I'm leaning towards them really liking it because of the meticulous way they put on my nails. They are very attentive and severly efficent. I see only three problems with the situation, (none of these is the gender of the nail technician)-
1. They get to wear a mask
If there is a reason for them wearing a mask, there must certainly be something harmful that can't be great for me to inhale for thirty minutes
2. The language barrier
The place I frequent does not have anyone with superb english. I don't really care except for the fact that it's a little difficult to know how to hold your hands when someone is pointing with their eyes, wearing a mask and holding a small drill. Luckily, this place does not slap hands when you flinch.
3. Sanitation
How clean is this equipment that is being used on my nails? Any fungus? Strange special nail parasites? I hope not. This is where I take the chance.
All said and done, my nails look fabulous and for lack of conversation there, I'm having a conversation through my blog.
Happy Pioneer Day ya'll. And I don't know why it shows the wrong date. Lame. It's the 24th.
