OK, so yesterday I was not feeling great… like, existentially. I haven't been feeling great existentially for a little while now. But today I woke up and felt better. Just getting it all out there in the open made me feel better, and the fact that all the kids would be accounted for today so that I could have some quiet time to myself made me feel better, too.
So I pulled myself off the couch and traipsed off to Fancyland to get my hair cut. It was very lovely to get out of the house, and my very awesome hair stylest gave me some kind of "treatment" that has turned my frizzy white lady afro into a shockingly tame array of curls. I'm sure by tomorrow I'll be back to frizzy mayhem, but for now – HOORAY!
Feeling overly confident from the Taming Of The Hair, I decided to try a spontaneous pedicure at a little place not far from the Fancyland haircut place. I'd never been to the pedicure place, but was assured by another hairdresser that "it's not the place where you will catch some fungus" so I was sold!
Amazingly, the pedicure place was able to squeeze me. It was a nice little house, with fancy chairs and no fungi and claimed to be chem-free (or as chem-free as you can get when dealing with lacquers and solvents). Also important, it was not a hundred bajillion dollars for a 30-minute pedicure.
So I settled in with an ancient Real Simple and breathed deeply and went about having a nice lady massage my feet.
All good, yeah? Perfect rainy morning of pampering.
There was a fancy TV on in the background, playing a Rick Steves travel show. His soft murmuring in the background was kind of nice. I put the magazine down and closed my eyes, listening to Mr. Steves talk about cobblestones and monuments and death camps.
Yes, friends. Death camps. It was apparently Rick Steves Tours Nazi Death Camp Day at the nail salon so I learned all about gas chambers and Nazi doctors and other horrible, horrible unspeakable things. All while having my heels buffed and polished. Because these are the things that happen to me.
When the pedicure was done, the nice lady asked how I felt about everything. I was all, "Well, I've decided to never vacation at a Nazi death camp!" And her eyes went wide. I think maybe she had not been listening as closely as I was. So I told her the polish was gorgeous, thank you very much, and I over tipped and then ran out in the rain to my car.
Just. COME ON.