|
navigation
current
archives
links page
profile
|
|
Eugene O'Nails; or a long day's journey into nail-polish
June 02, 2016
I had an odd sort of mood-disconnect going on last night.
Painting my nails while watching a movie is one thing--but an O'Neill tragedy?!
Surely such frippery would surely be better suited to a Doris Day comedy, or something similarly frothy...
But "Long Day's Journey into Night" was on TCM, and I can't resist that one, because of the cast. Unfortunately, watching intelligent, self-aware characters wrestle with their self-destructive tendencies and lose is not what you'd call a morale-builder.
But whatever. At a 174 minutes, it kept me idle long enough to let the nail lacquer dry. No small thing, for me. I'd wrecked the polish on 4 different fingers before I got home from my manicure the other day.
This is the nail polish I got from the Jamberry party, BTW. I really like it. I wasn't sure how it would behave, since it is "5-Free" lacquer (No formaldehyde, formaldehyde resin, dibutyl pthalate, toluene, or camphor). But it went on quite well, and I love the color I got--a shimmery, deep copper-orange called "I Lava You". Sandwiched between layers of Orly rubberized basecoat and Orly Sec'nDry topcoat, it seems to be as good as any other premium brand. (Okay, confession time: I'm a polish snob. Orly top and bottom, and for color, it's OPI all the way, baby. In fact, I just spent $13.85 to order a bottle of "Digeridoo Your Nails" from a company that buys up discontinued colors.)
Trying to treat myself better. Taking care of my hands, wearing that new outfit, instead of "saving" it for a "worthy occasion". I wish I could get my brain to connect eating right and exercising with self-care, but sometimes I fear that my mom screwed that one up forever. No matter what my intellect knows, my emotions will always process it as abuse. I was willing to put up with a certain amount of it, as long as it was earning me money off my insurance premiums. But as soon as I'd racked up the maximum amount of discount dollars--I breathed a sigh of relief, gave up, and went back to my unhealthy ways.
I made a doctor appointment to go over my lab results, and I thought I was being clever, leveraging the afternoon appointment to get out of a compulsory work lunch. Then they went and re-scheduled the stupid lunch. (I really am NOT looking forward to "celebrating" the completion of a project that was BRUTAL. Usually the particular VP who headed this one is more tuned in, but in this instance, he's tone-deaf.) Oh, well. At least I'll still have a midweek afternoon free, and after my doctor gives me hell for 15 minutes, I can go home and take a nap with the dog.
Stupid to have to go anyway--I already got my results, and they are fine. Smack in the middle of the range for both free thyroxine and TSH. (which I already knew, anyway, because, you know--it's my body, and I FEEL IT.) But I guess it's good that they follow protocols. It is supposed to prevent Rx pad doctoring. Unfortunately, if you are one of those people who only really needs to be prescribed for and left alone till you say otherwise, the protocols are cumbersome.
Reading: "The Lady Evelyn: A Story of To-day" (1906), by Max Pemberton. I started this, wandered away, and now I'm back. Maybe. For now.
Daughter of an Earl goes on stage behind her disapproving father's back, aforementioned father has a past on its way back to haunt him (in the form of a vaguely menacing Roumanian Count), and there is an architect floating around in there somewhere, but I don't know what's up with him yet.
Listening: Social Distortion, Weezer, Phoenix, Bob Marley & the Wailers
Inked Up: no changes; click recede to see what's inked.
|
|