I had a hang nail yesterday. It started in the morning as a break halfway down the nail and by the end of the day was a full dagger. This is one of my pet peeves in life because with all the complex mechanisms our bodies have built in, the hang nail seems like a small, yet annoying flaw. The neurons in my baby's brain right this minute are forming complex connections and computing frightening amounts of input for the first time. "Yes, it is a flowwwweeeer!" "Look at the dogggggie!" But my little nail just sits there helpless and worsening, waiting for me to tend to it. On my list of bottle washing, baby feeding, floor cleaning, etc., there's no place for this nail.
Sorry, Mr. Hang Nail, I don't have time for you.
Big mistake. The nail weaved a path of destruction that in one day is unparalleled by any moth or pair of scissors. Here's the damage:
3 hairs ripped out while washing hair
3 sweaters snagged while getting dressed (takes a few try-ons to find something that fits post-baby)
1 baby sweater
1 scratch on baby's leg
2 snags in muslin baby blanket
1 stuffed animal
1 new pair of pants
2 kitchen towels
And then by the evening I finally got around to cutting it. What I've learned from this is (1) that you can't put things off in life and (2) I either need to find an invisible mending service or get regular manicures. I think I'll opt for the latter.
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