I looked at my hand this morning while gripping a pole on the E train and noticed that my fingernails were dirty. One nail had a complex, layered design of multicolored grime that reminded me of the sand art I made in elementary school. I was embarrassed and adjusted my grip so that the no one, including myself, would be exposed to the horrors resting in front of my nail bed.
Because I have four or five nail clippers to my name, there's no reason for this to have happened. There's one in my desk drawer. A second in a toiletry kit that somehow makes it through every TSA [...]