Nails

Mrs Sox is pottering around the house humming to herself and muttering about the tune that is stuck in her head.

I am sat on the sofa admiring the way the colour of my nails compliment the colour of my skin. Sometimes the simple things brighten my day and pink nails always seem to give me a lift.

I have always liked pink. Years ago after my brothers left home my mother and father decided they wanted to have the largest bedroom (which we all had shared) and so I had to relocate to their room, which was pink. They said I could have it painted whatever colour I liked. I said it didn’t matter and there was no need to repaint as it looked ok. In reality I was quite pleased because it was a great colour.

The white peep toe sling backs are now calling out to be worn so I slip them on and walk to the mirror in the hall. Looks good even though I say so myself. At this point Mrs Sox comes into the hall looks at me and says ‘Tart’ I think it’s a term of affection because she always says it with a smile.

‘Would you like a cup of tea’ I ask, she nods her head in approval. ‘Would you like muffin too’ I say with a wink and totter towards the kitchen.


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