We were in the car together the other day. Dad at the wheel, my brother beside him, me in the back. I spent most of the ride looking absentmindedly out the window, as I am wont to do when a passenger. At some point, though, a certain serendipitous something or other led me to look up at the two of them up front. The both of them were chomping away at their nails, the silence of the ride broken only by the gentle clicking of teeth being used as nail clippers. It was then that I looked down at my own hands, and it suddenly struck me that I had been absentmindedly picking away at my hangnails ‘til the skin was red and raw.
Well. There we were, a family of finger-maulers in perfect harmony. Looks like it’s an uphill task for the lot of us.