Nails on the chalkboard

When I get a pedicure, which is about every six weeks or so, I usually like to go to an upscale nail salon chain, called Nailbar. It's a fun atmosphere with lounge music, the people don't talk to you (which I hate when I get my nails done because I just want to be by myself and read a magazine or a book) and you get a really good pedicure that takes about an hour.

I define that really good pedicure as one that includes a nice foot soak in a whirlpool, a good salt scrub and a decent-length foot and leg massage with lotion. For this, I pay $50 and drive about two miles.

But there is also a nail place right across the street from our house. This nail place gives you a soak in a whirlpool, a cursory rub of some lotion on your feet and you are out the door in less than 30 minutes. For this, I pay $15 and walk across the street.

You can all guess which place Josh prefers that I frequent. But damn it, it's just not nice. They have cut me TWICE. I have bled. It hurt. And yes, this can happen anywhere, but it has not happened to me at Nailbar.

So tonight I told Josh I was going to get a pedicure and he got a huge smile on his face and said, "Across the street right?" And I felt guilty so I sighed and said yes. So I trudged down there and was able to get a mani AND a pedi for $25 -- half the price of just the pedicure at Nailbar.

Yes, it was not the "experience" I was looking for. But my nails are done for the wedding we're going to this weekend and I did get to read a book and be by myself for an hour. But, I didn't really relax or enjoy it. And isn't that half the point of getting your nails done?