Jared pressured me into getting a manicure. Okay, maybe there wasn't that much pressuring. He suggested it and first, I hesitated. He suggested it again and I gladly obliged. That was Saturday night. Only a few short hours after waking up Sunday morning my perfect French manicure looked like this:
Now I remember why I don't ever get my nails done. (Fancy nails + my life = unfancy nails real quick.) Oh well. I make myself feel better by thinking how awesome they must have looked while I was sleeping.