Like a lot of CDers, I like having my toenails polished. This is a nice way to feel a little femme even when I can't dress. Of course the downside is that shoes or socks have to stay on in the presence of muggles.
So, here's the scene. I'm over at a friend's house, 15 miles from home, helping him work on his car. We're doing manly stuff involving big wrenches and even bigger hammers. It's a hot day here in SoCal and I'm wearing mechanic's overalls so I'm sweatin' like a swine.
We finish the job and my friend says "Hey, let's grab a couple of beers and jump into the spa to cool off!" "Great idea!" I said! A minute or so later I had the sudden realization that "jump into the spa" is invariably preceded by "take off your shoes" and my rather pretty toes (Orly "Sea Shell") were unlikely to go over well. Since I was otherwise in drab, I had no reason to have any polish remover handy.
My brain is now in panic mode. My wife was coming over later and could bring remover, but that wasn't going to help right away, and my friend was already rummaging around looking for a spare set of trunks for me to wear. He went into the house and in a panic I looked around his garage.
Whoever watches over CDers must have been smiling on me because there on the shelf of painting supplies was a blessed can of acetone! I grabbed the can and a paper towel, jumped into my car, ripped off my shoes and attacked the polish, cursing the fact that I had done a beautiful 5-layer polish application that was meant to last. A couple of minutes later the polish was gone and I was able to proceed in full guy mode for the evening.
Lesson learned: A one-ounce bottle of polish remover is now going to be part of the permanent inventory of my purse!