Today I skipped lunch and treated myself to a candy colored manicure. I know, I know...skipping meals is a big no no. But if you'd seen my nails this morning you'd understand. So, instead of grabbing a bite I headed over to the dive bar equivalent of a nail salon near my job in Penn Quarter. It's tucked away in a basement under some stairs just off of 7th street. It's not spacious and airy. There are no water features, no separate rooms, no spa like bathroom, or a pottery barn clad waiting area. The ladies here mean business. Donning their little white masks they'll take your nails from fugly to fabulous in around 15 minutes. No joke. I stopped off at Starbucks and was back at my desk before anyone noticed I was gone. There's something about a fresh manicure that makes me feel instantly pulled together. My hair can be wind blown, and my outfit can be a misstep. But, if my nails are done, I feel...well..polished.
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