A couple months ago, I crushed my finger in a door and, as a result, I have had a fingernail blacked with blood for several months. Well today it grew out enough that I could tell what was happening: the new healthy nail was growing under the damaged nail. Well, that was only gonna get worse, so I had to devote an hour or so removing the fingernail. Look, these last couple weeks have been such that removing my own fingernail is not the worst time I’ve had. Anyway, with that done, my left middle finger is now without a nail for me to clip. You know what that means! Except nobody knows what that means.
Long ago in that most apocalyptic of years, 2012, I realized that, having once lost a fingernail and waited for it to grow back, I knew which finger had the nail I had clipped the least. There was one thing I could be certain about. But then, just to throw my life into chaos, I lost another fingernail! So now, with the third such occurrence, I am even more at a loss. (Note that the previous lost nails were almost instantaneously lost in machinery, this is the only one I’ve had to methodically remove of my own accord).
So now I just don’t have the scientific data to know which nails I’ve clipped in what kind of order. My whole operation is a shambles. At this point, my best bet will probably be to wait until I’ve lost six more fingernails, and then I’ll be able to tell which I’ve clipped the most. Then I’ll have closure.
It’s Golden Fog time!
Yep, it is that time again.
It sure is that time.
Apart from that, not much to report. Go back about your business. Let me alone. I have no more anecdotes as exciting as that right now.