The Weekend

Saturday. . .

I did one thing during the day which took up a good part of the afternoon. I went to the nail salon for a pedicure/manicure. When I walked into Athena's, Athena asked me what I wanted, told me to pick a color and asked me to wait a few minutes. Not bad, I thought, considering how many people were being served. 10 minutes later I was taken to the back where I waited 10 more minutes for a spot in one of the wonderful, pedicure chairs. All of their chairs give massages so I promptly set my controls on compressions that moved up and down my achy back. Patricia was great. My feet were in better shape than I thought. I didn't even need the razor to slough off the dead skin, just a good scrubbing.

She filed my nails, cleaned my feet, massaged my calfs and arches, and then painted my toes with the reddest polish I could find. Patricia then slipped my flip flops (thongs, zoris) on my feet and led me to the dryers where I was to wait for manicure...that was 3:50. I reset the dryer three times and still no manicure. My toe nails were completely dry. I stopped the fourth cycle, pulled my feet out and started a conversation with the woman next to me. She was getting ready for a blind date - comedy and dinner in the West Village. I gave her a few recommendations. While we were talking I noticed three people who came in for the same service as me, both the pedi and the mani were leaving, finished. I was still waiting for the manicure. By a quarter to five, I had had it. I marched up to the register where Athena grabbed my arm, trying to assure me it would be only two more minutes. I said, "I don't have all day to be here." I paid the 13 dollars for my toe job and when across the street and bought a big tuna sandwich from SUBWAY.

Typical. I had to eat something because I was angry. Food as comfort.

Well. After gobbling up my sandwich at home 10 minutes later, I calmed down a bit and started getting ready for my Saturday night out. . . . . . . .

(to be cont'd)