"Have any nail polish ideas?"
Something like that, and it brought back a memory; one, perhaps, best left to the drains of time.
But before I pull out the figurative acetone, an admission....
When I was in high school years ago, I arrived at the house of learning one day and proceeded to pull out my school books only to notice something odd about one of my fingertips.
Cut back to the evening before:
As I chatted with a friend over the living room telephone I noticed my sister's nail polish sitting on the table to my left. Pinching the phone's receiver between my left shoulder and cheek freed up my hands, allowing them to uncap the glass bottle and go to work. Almost unconsciously ― which is something I've long excelled at ― I coated, with great care and dexterity, a fingernail on my left hand with the glowing liquid.
Hot Pink, baby. Hot Pink!
Hey, I was ahead of my time!... in my own mind.
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