FailBerry

I've shared a lot on this blog over the years, but there is something you might not know.  As anti-clutter as I am, my family has some serious hoarder tendencies.  We can get away with it because I keep the kitchen counters reasonably clean and classify our individual stockpiles as "collections", but there is no denying that we can't stop.

Cael hoards trading cards for any game-- playing cards, Uno cards or even any clothing tag made of sturdy enough cardstock to withstand a day or two in his pocket.  Joel does the traditional "guy thing" and hoards gadgets and obscure tools for projects we might never need, while Graham hoards his own artwork of "grape trees" and portraits of me that look like I've been electrocuted via toaster-in-bath.

I like to think that my hoard, my extensive "collection" of nail polishes, takes up the least space, but it's probably the most time consuming.  Or at least it is for me, because I can't stand chipped polish and I end up redoing my manicure almost nightly.  Just like those TV hoarders who have walled off rooms of their house with clutter, I have filled my polish bin (yes, bin) with so many bottles that I think I must have at least two for every color recognized by Pantone, including a few truly hideous options that would only be suitable for me in one of Graham's drawings.

 

Because of this extensive collection, it was surprising even to me that I hadn't experimented with Jamberry nail wraps.  For those of you who don't dedicate your only 15 minutes of free time to nail maintenance, Jamberry wraps are glorified stickers that cover your nails and are touted to stay in place for up to two weeks without chipping like regular nail polish.

We'd see about that.

My sister Sarah, who had had a Jamberry party online, told me to pick one out to try and gave it to me for Christmas with the appropriate accoutrements, but because my nails are thin and pathetic, perhaps from being repeatedly chemically stripped and dipped into hot and cold soapy water from countless rounds of dishes, it wasn't until this last week that I had ten reasonably long nails ready to wrap.

 

I was excited.  This would work.  I could imagine my future and the hours I'd gain no longer being a slave to traditional nail polish.  I could imagine my future polish box, not bin, and the small corner it would occupy.  I could also imagine that the ozone layer would double in thickness if were to put away the nail polish remover.

It was settled... this would be my new addiction.  The only problem was that I couldn't make it work.  I prepped my nails thoroughly according to the instructions and started adhering the wraps to my thumbs.  Quickly I found that if I concentrated extra on the edges, the tips of my nails would have ripples in the wrap, or vice versa.  After an hour and half and with only four nails done, I decided that these stickers would need to stay on upwards of three months in order to make this effort worthwhile.

Once finally on, I went about my day, going to church and making dinner.  And it wasn't until I was finishing up my last few bites that I saw I was missing the wrap from my right index finger.  I was confident I hadn't accidentally eaten it, as mint and gold would not be camouflaged by grilled salmon, so I figured it had fallen off in the sink as I washed my hands.  But after cleaning up the leftovers, I noticed that my left ring finger was bare as well as my right pinky and thumb.

Where had they gone?  I was unimpressed with the staying power of these wraps but very impressed with the intrigue they'd added to my day.  Perhaps I'd encourage Graham to create a rendering of my hands, adorned by these six remaining stickers.

But before I had the chance, I started discovering them around my house, stuck to various objects like a symbolic timeline of my activities. The first was adhered to a plastic container of blueberries in my refrigerator.

The second was on the remote control.

The third was stuck in Oscar's whiskers, so there's no knowing what I was doing when it made its hasty escape.

I found the fourth inside my purse while I was digging for my keys.

Finally I found the fifth (which I didn't realize I'd lost) in the most ironic spot of all, resting comfortably in front of one of my bins of nail polish, mocking me for thinking I could ever give up on my collection.

It's probably not Jamberry's fault.  There are thousands of other people whose nails don't reject the wraps and can go for two weeks without nearly ingesting their own nails with a side of broccoli.  And as I type this post, bare fingered, I understand that I simply might not be one of those people.

So until I work up the courage to try again, I set my stickers aside and picked up a bottle of Essie.

That's a wrap, people.