It was Saturday night.

I was multitasking between several projects: getting ready for bed, cleaning up the kitchen, and finding an outfit to wear for church the next morning.

Well.

I suppose I might have been the teeniest weeniest bit overtired…you know the kind of overtiredness I mean; not paying attention to anything, laughing at nothing, and clearly not thinking about the things that are absentmindedly being accomplished.

That kind of overtiredness.

Anyways, the kitchen was soon finished (not because of me and my absentmindedness; mostly because of my mother and two sisters who weren’t as absentminded that night as I was) and I was searching for my Sunday outfit.

When I finally found a matching combination of a skirt and sweater, I looked down at my painted orange-y pink toenails and sighed. Nope. Orange-y pink would definitely not do. For one, the polish was getting badly scuffed and didn’t even look presentable anymore (at least in my opinion), and for another thing, my sweater was bright red. Since I was planning on wearing open-toe shoes…well…

Orange-y pink with red may be in style some day. But it certainly wasn’t at the moment, so off I went to paint them bright red to match.

Now, keep in mind that this orange-y pink toenail polish was some brand like the L.A. Colors stuff. It was cheap, and when I had first put it on, it seemed that I had to put SO many layers on to get it to stick.

Maybe that’s why it wouldn’t come off that Saturday night. The nail polish remover did not seem to be working. Scraping it off with my fingernails would have been faster. But no, it couldn’t have been the polish remover that was the trouble since I’d used it several times before and it had always worked just fine.

Whatever it was, I was highly frustrated and I complained to everyone within hearing distance that this silly orange-y pink toenail polish wouldn’t come off no matter how much polish remover I used. I told Brittany, and I told Abby, and I told Mom, and I think I might have told several of my uninterested brothers as well.

Hmph! I was definitely never going to use L.A. Colors’ orange-y pink Color Craze again, especially if I couldn’t even get it off! Finally I resorted to the old method of painting over it and wiping the new and the old polish off at once. It worked. Sort of. It took forever, and I was still frustrated, still complaining to anyone within hearing distance of my polish plight.

One key thing to remember while you read this…I was a little on the tired side that night. As I wrote in an earlier paragraph: I suppose I might have been the teeniest weeniest bit overtired…you know the kind of overtiredness I mean; not paying attention to anything, laughing at nothing, and clearly not thinking about the things that are absentmindedly being accomplished.  

Just saying that you might want to keep this in mind as you read further.

Ahehehem. Now where was I?

Ah, yes. My polish plight.

So I was complaining about the ordeal that L.A. Colors had become when Brittany walked into the room. I showed her my method of removing nail polish with nail polish.

She looked at me strangely. “Umm…what is that?” she asked, looking at the bottle of nail polish remover which was on the floor beside me.

“Nail polish remover,” I replied, somewhat irritated. What else would it be?

“Maybe you should look at the label, Kate,” she said.

I looked down at the bottle and twisted around to see the words written on the front. Rubbing Alcohol.

Oh.

Maybe that’s why my “nail polish remover” wasn’t working.

But I have an excuse.

I was overtired. And remember…when I am overtired, I am not paying attention to anything, laughing at nothing, and clearly not thinking about the things that are absentmindedly being accomplished.

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