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" Rex is out of town on business again, so I decided to do something decadent and unplanned. I walked there, giving myself plenty of time to change my mind. But I didn&amp;#039;t. Instead, I walked into the joint with all the confidence of a woman who was ready for a change. I didn&amp;#039;t want to consult a girlfriend, my mom, my kids or even Rex. Heck, Rex is the last person I wanted to confer with over my sordid little secret. I felt guilty enough - putting off my credit card debt for a guilty tryst with a stranger over a crowded little table. As I sat down on the twisty stool, my eyes darted through all the potions on the glass shelves. I needed something that would make me feel alive. A small glass jar with the words &amp;quot;pomegranate mixer&amp;quot; had my name all over it. I pointed it out to the person behind the counter. It was retrieved with understanding by someone who had seen my type before. No judgment. No questions. I needed servicing and carried cash. And then I did it. Something I hadn&amp;#039;t done since I married my husband, had kids, and somehow always managed to choose &amp;quot;practical decision&amp;quot; over &amp;quot;what the hell&amp;quot; fantasy. I got nailed by a stranger. Yup, I got myself a fabulous manicure. A quiet woman named Cathy took my large hands into her tiny capable ones and immediately set out to transform me. Within moments I got her life story. (Like you&amp;#039;re surprised?) She was eager to talk, but not exactly smiley. I asked what she liked to do besides nails. &amp;quot;Nothing,&amp;quot; she replied with a sigh. &amp;quot;I have two kids. I am divorced. I must work-work-work and go home and cook and clean and that&amp;#039;s it. My life has no time for joy.&amp;quot; I wanted to tell her that her existence didn&amp;#039;t have to be joyless. I wanted to encourage her to take a night class or join a group. I wanted to tell her that despite being almost fifty she looked not a day over thirty five with her tiny frame and long dark hair. But then I started at her eyes, wrinkles forming down the sides as she intently brushed a second layer of red over my fingers. I knew those lines came from a life of hard work. From a broken marriage to starting a new life in a foreign country to a job she hated. I knew at that moment the best thing I could do was be graceful and leave a nice tip. And so I did. I stopped a moment on my walk home, folding my manicured hands in prayer. I just had to give a nod of thanks for a husband that works as hard as he does to allow me to experience the one thing Cathy won&amp;#039;t allow herself: Joy. Thank you, Rex. Now come home safe. I&amp;#039;ve got great plans for my manicure. Wink wink. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/a2819/getting-nailed-by-a-stranger/>