More musing from the bathtub

I believe I must be reading too many detective novels.  How did I arrive at that scary place?

Today, while I was in the tub, and working a pumice stone on my feet, I realized that were I a murder victim, and the only accessible part of my body was my feet, the SOCO team would come to the conclusion that I was a middle class Madam.

I think they would be persuaded by the cobalt blue polish on my toes, lazily and inadequately brushed over the Christmas gold sparkle.

I have no pictures.  And I've thoroughly scrubbed my toenails with a superstrong polish remover.

Let this, however, show how serious I am and how eager to be a victim identified as a granny with cautious nails.