Making breakfast with only one hand is slow and messy; waffles veer to the right while being slathered in cream cheese and jelly. Pulling up underwear and jeans is possible. Buttons require patient maneuvering . It only takes one extremity to brush hair and teeth. Typing is a breeze, and so is doing laundry if imprecise folding is allowed.
Life with one hand is difficult, but it is doable. I am ready. Trust me when I say, someone as lazy as me doesn’t need two hands. Whether I use one hand, two hands or both my feet to clean my house, the results are the same. If you take a close look at my hair and make-up, you would think both of my hands were removed years ago. Plus, I could be a perfectly functioning, delightful one-handed librarian; I don’t need two hands to wake up homeless people, give pre-pubescent boys The Diary of a Wimpy Kid, or help patrons with their Facebook accounts. If anyone ever had an extremity spare, it is me.
So, here I am and ready to offer my left hand. Take mine and spare my son’s, please.
