Today I washed my hair in the bath tub. With one arm glued to my side (more out of fear of intense pain, than due to actual intense pain) and a red keg cup in my free hand, I struggled with my innate clutziness. It was frustrating. I fought down my instinct to let the right hand assist the left. I dropped cupful after cupful of water on my matted hair until it was wet enough to add shampoo, then awkwardly lathered, one-handed. We were nearly out of conditioner, and extracting a quarter-sized blob into my hand felt pretty close to a miracle. That's when it struck me: I was kinda enjoying myself.