As a florist, the best way to recover from a crazy June wedding weekend is to buy yourself something really expensive, but since I'm operating from a mode of fashion self-restraint these days, I opted to maniacally clean my apartment from top to bottom. OK, just the kitchen. OK...just the kitchen floor. Then I walked the dog for, like, 25 miles in Brooklyn since she's been sorta neglected these days. Now I can't really feel my hip flexors. On our walk I stopped to get a manicure on Court Street and I opted for no polish. A NO POLISH MANICURE. How effing mature am I? Right?