Room 229, Sunday Morning

Over the course of the weirdly social past few weeks, Gert and Old Lace hadn't had a lot of quality time to spend together. So that was why on this fine Sunday morning, Gert was flopped on the floor on her stomach in her pajamas, painting Old Lace's nails.

Okay, so maybe the metallic purple color was going to clash with Old Lace's coloring, but Gert only had one thing of nail polish, and besides, she personally felt like if anyone besides her got close enough to see Old Lace's nails, the fact of their being painted alone was intimidating enough that the color really didn't matter.

She had a dinosaur who was happy to submit to this treatment, she had internet radio, and she had a wide-open door and window so that the nail polish fumes didn't get too annoying. It was a good day.

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