Saturday I went to work.  After work I came home, my boyfriend made us dinner, and then we had to figure out how to open the box containing my mother’s ashes and divide them into two containers for me and my brother.  We ended up making the transfer over the bathroom sink, and the whole experience was very, very WEIRD.  It was weird enough seeing the box, but it was even weirder opening up and seeing the contents of the box, if that makes sense.

Then this morning I brought one of the containers (the more official one that had her name on it) to my brother’s place.  I put it down on the coffee table in the living room, but within two minutes my brother had picked it up and brought it into her bedroom.

It’s interesting how he chooses to deal with some things but not with others.  For example, I gave him a box of chocolates for Christmas.  He brought them home from my place in the gift bag and put them on the coffee table, where they remained for MONTHS.  As January turned into February I would wonder if he was ever planning to eat them or share them, but I didn’t say anything.  As February turned into March I started to mention to him that he should probably eat them or throw them out.  By the time we got to April I said that he should definitely throw them out because otherwise he was going to attract mice into the apartment again if he left food out in the open.  And by the end of April I just ended up picking up the box and walking past him to go to the incinerator to throw them out.

Okay, okay, it’s not that I deny that my mother’s ashes are more important than a box of chocolates.  But, you know, STILL …

After we were done at my brother’s place, my boyfriend left to fill his own family obligations (taking his father to the barber and going shopping for his mother), while I made a brief detour to the local pharmacy to get pedicure supplies.  If you’re thinking that sounds a little girly for me, you would be correct, Dear Readers.  In fact, my nail-painting period began and ended when I was 18 years old.  I tried it a couple of times, the polish wore off or chipped so quickly that it didn’t seem worth it, so I never bothered again … until now.

The reason I decided to try it again after more than 25 years is because of a horrifying physical defect.  You see, last summer when we were moving to our new apartment I had bumps and bruises all over from dropping things, bumping into furniture, etc.  On the very last day of our move I managed to knock over a tube of my boyfriend’s aftershave that fell from the top of a dresser straight down onto my big toe.  It left a ginormous black bruise under my toenail that I thought would have grown out by now, but it’s been making such slow progress that it’s currently right in the middle of my toenail.  And I wanted to be able to wear sandals without scaring small children or inviting conversations from my creepier patrons.

Well, it turns out that if you google “how to give yourself a pedicure,” you’ll find a lot of helpful information and videos.  There were some supplies that I already owned (epsom salts, pumice stone, nail clippers, moisturizer) but many more that I had to buy (nail polish, cuticle cream, undercoats, overcoats, etc.).  And so, after a process that took WAY longer than I would have liked, my toenails now look … weird.  But at least they’re not terrifying, and that was the major goal.  And tomorrow is definitely looking like sandal weather!

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