I have certain Sunday rituals which include shaving my legs and doing my nails. The "doing my nails" portion includes clipping my toenails which are roughly the density of horse hooves. Today, as I was clipping my toenails, one got away from me. I search all over my bedroom floor and it was nowhere to be found. Crap.
I moved on to the shaving legs portion of my exciting Sunday morning and was interrupted by the need to blow my nose. As I blew a hearty blow, a booger flew out of my left nostril. I saw it go. I followed the path of the errant boog and, once again, couldn't find it. Double crap.
As I was on the floor looking for the runaway nose stopper, I raked up a handful of hair from my bathroom carpet. Guess it's time to vacuum.
I gave up on the booger and got in the shower and used one of my shampoos I hadn't used in a while and, Oh My God, the gunk under the bottle was not pretty. Wiped that up.
So, here I sit at my computer using my mouse which has patches of black body oils and heaven only knows what kind of bacteria thriving on it, to make a point. If this house should ever need a thorough CSI sweep, God forbid, with infrared cameras and magnifying thingys and chemical analysis, I will be forever branded a filthy person who didn't deserve to live anyway. Case closed.
This is what I need from you, my adoring readers. When the report appears in the newspaper about the squalid conditions in which Ms. Anderson lived, you must all write letters to the editor demanding a retraction. Tell them it was lies, all lies! She was not a disgusting person. You read it in her blog so it must be true.
11 comments:
When I was a rookie in my company, I borrowed my boss's fingernail clippers, and one little clipping got away from me. He found it on his desk, and called me into his office for it, I was mortified.
Even more so when I found out that he'd been so disgusted with the stray clipping, he asked around of my coworkers, "what kind of background did she come from?"
When I want to clean my house really well, I pretend he's coming over. All toenails and boogers are promptly and properly disposed of.
I hate when a toenail clipping flies and you've no idea where it went. I'm personal about my clippers too, I do not like lending them out or borrowing them from others. Like a toothbrush!
My children run in fear when I clip my toenail. One of them could put an eye out.
Gnight Girl - Hahahahah!
Se7en - You better not let Gnight Girl into your house then because she evidently borrows other people's clippers. :)
Roxan - Hahahaha! We ran from my dad's toenails...still do, as a matter of fact.
Hey! I've never borrowed a clipper from anyone since I sullied my own good name by doing so!
I'm a reformed black sheep.
First let me say, no one uses my clippers unless they do so in front of me. I am fanatical about nails that don't catch on anything. if I break a nail, I have to fix it right then. I carry my clippers on my key chain. I am also a bit particular about my nail clipper, it has to be a french style one.
There was a short period maybe 6 yrs ago, when there was a lot of blood happening in my bedroom, the hall and the bathroom. I swear everyone I knew who was going to bleed somewhere did it at my place. I had some flooding (hemorrhaging), then a friend's kid taking a nap had a nose bleed, a house guest popped open some stitches that required an er visit, and the guinea pig had an ovarian cyst leaving a trail of blood.
Of course everyone, except the guinea pig, ran to the bathroom bleeding on the way I cleaned it all up, you can't see where it was, but luminol would make it look like a blood bath.
GnightGirl - Good for you! Okay, Se7en, you can invite GnightGirl over for a cocktail.
Susan - Oh, my God! That sounds like a horror movie scene! Hahahaha!
FIrst of all, I'm just glad that the booger and toenail weren't one in the same.
And finally....
TOO MUCH INFORMATION!!!
Zina - It's always fun to gross out a cousin.
It never takes me long to find a stray toenail as it usually becomes lodged in my foot after stepping on it.
Sharp little critter.
Grimm - Oh, I hate that!
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