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Hey Oprah!  I want to tell you about my husband.  Greg is one of the best looking guys I know.  Tall, dark, strapping, and funny; I call him my trophy husband (once in a while…I don’t want it to go to his head.)  He does have one thing that was almost a deal breaker 20 years ago when we started dating.  I’m not sure how I ultimately over looked it; I guess I just turned a blind eye.  His toenails.  I don’t know if it’s because he is 6’4” and can’t see his feet from that elevation, or the air up there is so thin that he get’s dizzy, or what; but it seems that there is a lot of time between nail clippings.  Don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t look like Howard Hughs on his death-bed, but that’s only because they somehow break off.  Not a nice clean break either.  You know that large serrated knife you use to cut French bread?  Yep.  That’s about it.  I have slept with a body pillow for years, much to Greg’s chagrin, but I think it’s actually saved my life!

So a couple of days ago,  I was getting ready to make the bed, and Greg walks in and says he thinks his toenail might have put a hole in the bottom sheet.  Great…I loved this set of sheets…maybe it’s small enough to be mended.  Who cares if it’s a stiff, bumpy fix?  It’s not on my side of the bed for my legs to slide over all night long.  Besides, maybe Greg needs a reminder of slaughter his feet can inflict on just about anything.

I pulled back the sheet.  Good God!  He didn’t poke a hole in the sheet–he put an 2′ gash in it.  I could fit Pierce through it!  Guess who got a really laugh out of my reaction?  Then, guess who changed his first bed at 44 years old?  Here’s a hint:  I’m 42.  (I had to help a little, when he tried to put the fitted sheet on the wrong direction.)  Before this little bed changing tutorial, I got the camera.

The Grisly Scene

The Grisly Scene

I was going to wait to post this until I could get a picture of Greg’s feet, but it seems the shame motivated him to clip his toenails.  Besides, I want my readers to return to my blog…