A Lack of Fingernailcutteries

Some things just seem like a much bigger deal than they really are.

For instance, being one of the few people alive that doesn't just bite their fingernails, it takes me forever to work up the gumption to actually pick up the clippers and give them a trim.

For a few days I can see it coming, as the white caps grow longer and longer, until finally it looks as though I've actually had a French manicure. Then I suck it up, head to the bathroom, dig out that little medieval-looking device and clip away.

The whole event (not counting the stubborn observation period beforehand) takes probably no more than a minute or so. It's not taxing in any way, and very rarely does it hurt.

Same thing with haircuts, but that has more to do with the fact that I can't find a cheap haircuttery that isn't infested with scissor-armed social butterflies that want to know if I have any big plans for the weekend.

But I find, most of all, that this relates immensely to finishing a writing project. Granted, in the last month my lap top died, I spent a week in Colorado and I got a new job. But still, I would really like to have finished a draft of my screenplay by now.

It'll happen. I know I'll get around to it (it took me about a year to write the first one). I just wish I could've come out of the six months I spent unemployed with something more than, you know, a job. Not that I'm not thankful for that, of course.

Ah well. Just need to keep reminding myself that the white caps are growing, and if I don't do something soon, there's going to be some pretty gnarly stuff under there.