I used to paint my nails all the time. I preferred such a dark red that it was almost black. In fact, before I discovered Revlon's Vixon #63 (which, for all I know, doesn't even exist anymore), I'd put down two layers of black and one of red, and it was great.
I would also paint at least one fingernail an entirely different color, usually green or blue, usually the pinkie, but sometimes the ring finger. It made people crazy. They were certain it had to mean something. If they weren't my own nails, I'd agree: I prefer fraught. But it meant nothing. It was just to shake it up. On the super-rare occasion when I wear earrings, I don't: I wear earring, singular. Just because.
When it was time to take off the polish, I'd be so relieved, somehow, by the clear, fresh, unpainted nail again. It looked so pretty, all pale and nice and healthy-looking. But when I put on a fresh coat, I was thrilled with having the color again. "Again." As if it had been weeks instead of minutes.
Well, it's been a long time since I've painted my nails -- maybe since I've started painting other things -- but I had the same experience this morning. Benji and I went to the car wash.
Mike always wants to know what Sunny was doing, since they're his dogs, after all (or so he thinks). Usually I'll tell him that Sunny was crying at the door, pawing at the kick-plate, whining and trying to come out with us, scrabbling and clawing while I used my foot to shove her snout back into the house. The truth is that she's almost always sleeping. She turned sixteen in January. She deserves to be absolved from chores.
I wanted to see if the high-pressure hose at the car wash would knock the paint off those white plastic lawn chairs. It WILL! This is very exciting. This is the first time that I've had hope that something can be done with those chairs besides leaving them out and hoping someone will steal them.
There's a drawback. I spent two dollars on one chair and I didn't complete the task. I used some of my time to flush the chips of lime 1-SHOT down the drain. I don't want the Car Wash Cops to come get me for littering. Still, just knowing it's possible is a thrill.
The same thing happened with the chairs as used to happen with my nails, though. Oh! it was so good to see the paint and the ugliness from months outside get washed off that chair! The pine needles and lizard droppings and yellowed clear-coat were swept away. The clear, clean white came through again, looking all fresh and lovely! Ahh!
Ooh! and then I started thinking about how cool it would look with that blue on it!