I am writing this post as a public service act. You will be glad you are you by the end of it.
Do you know what I was doing at 3 this morning?
No, I was not snoring soundly in bed, not dreaming of wild flowers and sunshine, and definitely not basking in the feathery down of my pillow.
I was shaving the calloused skin off the bottom of my feet. I have one of those nifty hand-held devices with a little razor that neatly shaves your cracked, dry feet layer by layer until a pile of discarded skin litters the floor beneath your piggies. I almost took a picture of my feet, but then I reminded myself – “Boundaries FringeGirl. You must maintain some boundaries.”
Hence, no pictures.
The logical question is why? Why 3 am? Why not wait for sunrise and stop by the nail salon and get a pedicure?
It’s because my sweet little puppy made a foray on FringeKid’s room Sunday morning while our happy little family was in church singing Amazing Grace. The wooden castle was pillaged and three Barbies were torn asunder. It was a ghastly scene.
Just so you know, my grace is not nearly as amazing as God’s. Oriana was in trouble.
I was alpha dog. I was mad dog
It seems Barbies’ hip, knee, and hands must have made their way through my sweet puppy’s digestional tract by 1 am Tuesday morning. Let me spare you the grim details. I’ll just say that after what I had to clean up, filleting my feet seemed a soothing task.
I told you. You’re glad you’re not me right now. Bask in your glorious self girls. And guys.
I’m going to sleep. Hopefully for the entire night. If not, I’ll be painting my toe nails before sunrise.