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.
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…