So, today I went for a manicure. I see these tiny Asian ladies who don’t speak a lick of English, but they smile and nod a lot. I’m getting a fresh trache on Friday, so I didn’t want to go in with hideous nails…
It’s a small indulgence, but it’s oddly important. See, whenever my nails go bad it almost certainly means that life has gone bad, I’m either really sick, or astonishingly depressed. I’m often depressed these days, but not so much that I don’t care about the little things that make me, well, me.
Do you have any such gauges, little things that mean you’re still yourself?8 comments
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