…because I really don’t have a choice.
Spent four days at the beach and the only souvenir I brought back is a fistful of poison ivy/oak/sumac/something. No idea where I picked it up, all I did was walk from the car to the hotel room to the beach every day. Nevertheless, I’m now finding out how interesting life is without the use of my left hand:
Took a day and a half of sticky floors before I admitted that I really can’t open a 2-liter soda bottle with one hand. Worse is that the same holds true for a bottle of beer.
I know you don’t really want a description of what it’s like trying to get dressed using only my right hand. Suffice to say that I made getting dressed a non-issue for the last four days of my vacation.
And that’s why I didn’t find out until this morning how fun it is trying to drive through rush hour traffic with one hand. I’m just thanking God that we never got a manual transmission.
It has taken me several hours to type this because I only have one working hand. You all would not BELIEVE the typos I’ve created here. (Trust me when I say that I’m more Freudian than you’ll ever suspect) That last paragraph looked like a leftover verse from the Song of Chthulu when I first typed it.
Upshot - Tygr’s lesson for the day is: Don’t take your left hand for granted.
Oh, yes, and make sure you put the sunscreen on evenly - stated by one who, by virtue of his own lackadaisical nature, now bears a strong resemblance to his user name.