Sunday Sidewalk Surfin': I Can't Control My Fingers, I Can't Control My Toes

 While getting my ticket for the bus this morning, I noticed a random fingernail on the ground that appears to be painted the exact shade as my toes--"Hey DJ Play That Song."

I thought it was whimsical at first, but actually it's kinda creepy and familial, like this fingernail is a long lost stepbrother from a bad Lifetime movie. You go through something life-changing or win the lottery or something, and a few days later he mysteriously shows up at your door, bringing cookies he made with peanut oil, when everyone knows you have a nut allergy. Even though you couldn't possibly be able to give him what he needs, because he's a lone fingernail and you, well, you're 5 toenails.

Update, June 23: I wasn't sure how unusual it was to find a random fingernail on the ground painted the exact same color as one's most recent pedicure--but when I shared this story with a friend, she assured me it was  unusual indeed. At that point I tried to describe how I felt about the rogue nail. I couldn't quite put my finger (yuk yuk) on what made me so upset by its appearance, but it's almost like Sartre's Being and Nothingness, the main gist of which I am about to completely butcher. (Fair warning, this is gonna be like the freakin' Hello Kitty version of Existentialism.)

True free conciousness--which is what we all, or at least I, sometimes want--is no-thing-ness--being free of the subjectivity of others. In this case, the nail, by virtue of its being the color of Hey DJ Play That Song, aligned itself with me (or, uh, my feet), unbidden, taking away my "center of the universeness." Like, crap man, I'm not the only DJ Play That Song out there and I thought I was. And hey, by the way it feels so good and perfect to be the only one because then you don't have to think about all your own crap and what a mess you are because...there's no. one. to. compare. yourself.to! You're the only one in the race so you gotta win. But the rogue pinky ruins all that. So all of a sudden you're like, what must I prove to, or what do I owe, this nail, whose existence I hadn't planned on? Get it away from me and my toes!