Post 9 - 3.37.26

I hate when my nail polish is chipped. I always have.

I've been staring at my feet a lot, and the jagged edges of Pencil Me In Magenta Pink is blindingly disturbing. Normally, I would redo them, a fresh coat to override guilty pleasures--but I don't have time to entertain my OCD.

If it were my fingernails, I would pick at it until there was no more chipped polish, only naked nailbeds. I've been on my feet too long to consider this an option. A friend of mine is going to grad school. I'm so proud of her. I want to go to grad school, too, but I don't have the money nor the time nor the---well, I don't know what I don't have because I'm too focused on what I do, and honestly, I don't know what I have anymore.

I can think about grad school all I want, and it'll nag me like the chipped nail polish. Eventually, it'll fade away.