I was SUPPOSED to be Queen for a day. Ha.

I awoke this morning still basking in that newfound freedom one feels on occasion when some dreaded task has just been accomplished and checked off the list. It's a feeling akin to the last day of school, when the doors are flung open and the monkeys are set free.  Remember this one.."School's out, school's out, teachers let the monkeys out. One went east, one went west, one went up the teacher's dress."?  That was the freedom song back in the good old days when I was a kid. Anyway, I made the announcement to DH that I was going to take the tax info to Decatur to the poor accountant (see blog post below), and while I was up there, after dining with DS and DDIL, I was going to treat myself to a pedicure.  After all, with these summer-like temps, and flip-flops flopping all around, it's time. Here is what they were going to work with:

Don't laugh, they get me where I need to go!  LOL.  Anyway, since I spoiled hubby by NOT insisting on annual pedis throughout our marriage, the fact that I felt entitled to one today just came as a shock to him.  I decided that since I was the one that had the tax grief, I was the one that should get some relief. Grief relief. It made sense to me, and dang it all, I was going to get a pedicure.  He asked how much they cost, and the last time I had one, right before DS's wedding, I think it cost me $25 or so, and we just walked into the spa at the mall.  He said something about me being a queen, and since I agreed with him (hehe), off I went.  I did the usual errands in town, then headed up the highway.  I had a nice lunch and a nice visit with the kids, and after another stop, which I'll reveal in a minute, I headed to the mall.  My feet were killing me, so I parked where I thought it was closest to paradise, I mean the spa. 

This is not my foot.

These are not my feet.

These are the feet I left home with and the ones I returned with. Who stole the spa???  Not a spa to be had at the mall, and I didn't know of any other that accepted walk-ins.  Drat.  All wasn't lost, however, because I did come home with this:

A smartphone. Boy, do I feel dumb right now. If you need to call me, you might want to call the home phone. I'm not sure I know how to answer this one yet. DS insisted I needed it and I'll never go back once I get used to it. He'd better be right.  I think I'll go get my nail polish and paint my own toenails. That'll make me feel regal, for sure. 
Blessings,
Brenda