The death of a toenail.

It was yet another amazing weekend! The weather was every bit as diverse as my activities but all of it could not have been any better; that is until Sunday night.
Needing to blow off some built up steam I excitedly accepted an invitation from my neighbors to play tennis!
I pulled on some shorts, laced up my shoes and pulled the racket from the trunk of my car!!! Less than 15 minutes into hitting I realized that I still had "sandal toes."
"Sandal toes" are toenails grown slightly longer so that the polish looks more manicured. And yes, while they are quite lovely in my vast array of strappy summer sandals, they are not conducive to the sudden starting, stopping, sliding and cutting within the constraints of tennis shoes.
Two and a half hours and three sets later, in a dash across the court, tip of my racket connecting with the ball, a stop and pivot in the opposite direction . . .
I felt the toenail rip from its bed. I knew instantly it was not good.
It's gonna fall off, I know this. I've never lost a nail before and I've heard that it is uncomfy and not pretty. We're gonna watch and see!
I have a high tolerance for pain, so I'm not worried about that. I'm more concerned that it's summer, it's gonna look ugly and I'm really gonna miss painting it!
While at 3rd St. Stuff on Saturday I noticed a couple different novelty band aids.
I think that will be my ticket. I'm just going to keep the nine piggies perfectly pedicured and adorn one of their leaders in fancy, funny band aids.
So here we go!
Day 1