By The Wiz
I have a broken wrist. Poor me. This does not, however, mean that I can’t type, or that I’m begging for pity, as Heather inferred. It means that I can only type with one hand, and so my typos will greatly increase. It means that since it was my right wrist, and I’m right handed, here’s my big chance to become ambidextrous. So,yes, my grooming habits have changed. (I defy you to blowdry your hair one-handed. It can’t be done. And for a fun trick, try using just your nondominant hand to put on deodorant. I can do it, but it ain’t pretty.)
And it means that I get to play in the wondrous world of prescription pain meds. But that’s an entirely separate post.
Plus, I would like to point out that here is another reason not to exercise . SEE what happens when I attempt physical activity?
So here’s what I think: Falling down while roller skating is a crappy story. I need a better one. I was thinking, either something really cool, like pulling too hard on my parachute while skydiving — OR something really noble, like stepping in front of a bus to save a baby in a runaway stroller. Or maybe some great combination of the two, like I was skydiving with a blind person, and she was pulling the wrong cord, so I had to pull her cord for her, and it was at a wrong angle, so I broke my wrist saving her life, and then accidentally landed in a wildlife preserve that was about to be bulldozed, and my act of compassion and bravery saved all the turtles, too.
What do you think? Which one do I use? Do you have a great story I can tell while still holding a straight face? “How did you break your wrist?” “Well, actually, I was wrestling an alligator, as is our Christmas tradition, and things got out of hand.”
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