Auf Wiedersehen, Good night, Peace Out!
Sadly, Maggie’s need for balance in her life means saying goodbye to her Maggie Rants blog.
So today while I was slicing open the boxes for my newest set of shelving units (because you just can't have enough) with my straight razor blade it occurred to me, I sure hope my state

So today while I was slicing open the boxes for my newest set of shelving units (because you just can't have enough) with my straight razor blade it occurred to me, I sure hope my state board inspector has two brain cells to rub together.
I actually have a box of 100 single-edge razor blades. I use them for things like opening packages (Because I do nails, I certainly am not going to rip through all that packing tape with my nails.) and slicing all those itty bitty clay canes.
Except, in an arguably flawed effort to curb the use of Credo blades in the state, California amended our rules and regulations some time ago now to include section 993, paragraph A, which says we can't have any "razor-like" implements on the premises for removing calluses.
I certainly do not use razor-like implements for removing calluses. In fact, I'm part of the "your body created that callous for a reason" camp, so although I certainly advocate keeping calluses smooth and under control, I don't recommend removing them at all. Let alone with a razor.
But it wouldn't be unheard of to end up with an inspector who determines that I shouldn't need a box of a hundred razors for opening packages. Honestly, I only bought the big box because my cool little plastic dispenser disappeared. Razors don't stay razor sharp for long and when you are trying to slice a zillion clay canes into pieces measured in nanometers, you go through a surprising number of razors.
I'm thinking I'm gonna take my box of blades home tonight though. I don't need to go to court over this argument, especially not when the state is so desperate for revenue!
Sadly, Maggie’s need for balance in her life means saying goodbye to her Maggie Rants blog.
Maggie recalls the time she tried to figure out how to dispose of her salon chemicals.
With a vacation approaching, Maggie can’t wait to put some distance between herself and the drama of the salon.
Maggie doesn’t hesitate to confront clients about past sins.
How sick is too sick for a nail appointment?
Maggie is fed up with clients who won’t get off the phone.
Maggie needs to remind herself that she has options.
Maggie is trading in one writing genre for another.
Maggie knows too much about sanitation to get excited about a strange Jacuzzi tub.
Maggie is no longer certain nails are in her long-term future.
Maggie is learning about the downside of success — scheduling is a nightmare.
Maggie contemplates the limits of her charitable impulses.
Maggie is not too keen on clients bringing in their own nail supplies.
Just because Maggie isn’t with a client doesn’t mean she’s not working.
Twenty-two years of doing nails takes a toll on the hands.
Maggie doesn’t want her product reps dropping by.
Maggie enjoys other people’s drama — up to a point.