I believe that it’s okay to cut your toenails in a smooth curve. Screw conventional wisdom. Cutting your nails straight across is ugly and dangerous. I don’t want sharp toenail corners that can lacerate my loved ones.
Not only do I cut my toenails curved, I cut them short—really short. So short the flesh around them beats pink. It hurts to put on closed-toe shoes for the first few days. But I get a sense of accomplishment from the knowledge that my work here is done. Pedicure, check. It’s as if the shorter I cut my toenails, the less I have to tend to them at all. The closer I shave my legs, the smoother they’ll be. The harder I scrub the toilet, the longer it will stay clean. The more vigorous the dusting, the less it will start to settle again.
It’s like I am trying to get ahead. One more thing, one extra inch, and this’ll save me so much more time and effort in the future. But what happens? The dentist tells me I’m wearing away my teeth enamel. My vacuum cleaner burns out. The extra casserole I made gets furry with mold. My clothing starts to fade from too many washings.
Does it all boil down to the “lazy man’s load”—the sing-song phrase my father used to chant from the car as he watched me pile my arms up with too many bags of groceries?
Oh, how broken am I that all my hard work is born of laziness?
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| Reason I Didn't Write Yesterday: Plantar Fasciitis |
That plantar fasciitis has a mind of its own.
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