It occurs to me that not only is my left hand practically useless when rated on dexterity, but is also completely comfortable with that situation. How sad that my left hand watches my right do all the work and just hangs about, participating only when an extra hand is needed for lifting, balancing or pulling, pushing or grabbing. You know, the easy stuff. And I don’t know for sure, but I suspect it does this bare minimum while rolling its eyes and grumbling under its breath at all these ridiculous expectations.

I started paying more attention to ol’ lefty after watching this week’s Amazing Race. The racers had to drive a stick shift left-handed. No problem for those of them who were left-handed. And mostly not a problem for the right-handed people either. But for me it would have required the following things to happen just for me to get the car in gear: tongue held just right in concentration, eyes at the proper squint level, breathing rate adjusted to account for spastic left-hand movements, kick-ass song blaring on the radio for inspiration, and an internal monologue scrolling through my head that goes something like: “You got this. You got this. You got this.” See? That’s just to get the car in gear! And I adore driving a manual. Right-handed. I’m also very skilled at driving a manual. Right-handed. Just don’t leave the job to my left hand. Because there will be casualties. But hey, rest easy there, panicky reader. There’s no need to desert the roadways because I have no intention of ever attempting this. I have to give my left hand a pep talk before allowing it to dial a phone. I can’t even flip a stupid pancake with the slacker appendage. Do you really think I’m going to let it be the key player while operating a moving vehicle? No. I barely even use it for amusement anymore. I used to let it write just so I could giggle and point at it with my superhero right hand. My right hand and I would just shake our heads and laugh at its pathetic attempts to form the simplest of letters. I mean, come on, a cursive A? Really? You can’t manage that, lefty? Pathetic.

Feed my skull resident...

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