Maybe this latest discovery of mine is backed by zero evidence, but there it is. My perfect manicure—with black nail polish, no less—is making me happy this week. I'm not sure why. I usually dislike being made conscious of my nails, which are almost always in a state of ragged neglect, by colored polish. But my sister in law took me for a manicure for a Christmas gift, and I love it.
Sometimes there's nothing deep about being happy. Sometimes it's just a really shiny set of nails. Even if I do look slightly like Cruella de Vil.
