Once again I haven’t a whole topic in mind but just have the urge to write something non-fiction for awhile. That’s why I keep this blog instead of doing what normal people do and finding a convicted murderer to be a pen-pal for.
So here’s the weird thing in my life lately. WierdEST thing, given the fact that visiting my life is like sitting down in front of a Lazy Susan full of weirdness and just spinning from one tasty morsel of strange to the next.
About three or four weeks ago I began to notice that I’ve started doing more and more small tasks with my left hand. I’ve always been right-handed, with the exception of knitting where I prefer the lefty method. But for some completely odd reason I’ve started doing things like dressing with my left hand, brushing teeth and hair, and reaching for items. Nothing big–I’m not writing sonnets or signing checks on the goat hand yet. But odd little things are happening under my nose. It seems like the beginning of a horror story almost, because it has been going on for awhile but I’m just now starting to realise it. And before you jump to conclusions allow me to say that NO, it isn’t compensatory. My left hand is actually the sore-r of the two, and the one with the most extant arthritis damage. That makes it seem all the weirder that I’d start southpawing through life right now. My husband said I could either have a catastrophic brain injury or an alter personality, as those are the primary reasons for a spontaneous change in handedness. But I’ve checked inside my head space and all the personalities in residence have always been right-handed. And my head still seems undamaged, and I do not smell toast. Not even when I’m cooking toast. I have a very bad sense of smell. So for whatever reason, I’m now on my way to being at least ambidextrous, if not altogether left-handed. It’s like I’ve gotten divorced from my own fine-motor skills.
There’s other stuff going on in the world besides how I put on my socks, of course. The West Memphis Three are at last happily free, and I’m relieved. Even if they DID commit the crime for which they were convicted (and I don’t believe they did, having read all the court documents available) I do think that their conviction was a gross miscarriage of the judicial system. It makes me happy that that wrong was righted. Of course I still believe Satan exists and that there are those who pray to him. But folks, I promise you this. If you think Satan looks like a grungy outsider you certainly don’t have the first idea about his gameplan. Satan isn’t the kid all in black picking scabs on his arms and drawing bloody skulls in his math book. Satan is the star quarterback. The sharp-dressed smooth talker all the ladies swoon over. Satan’s whole job is to be so gloriously attractive, so charming and winning that we give in to the temptations before we entirely realise what we’ve agreed to. The last thing Satan has planned is to turn everyone off with grotesque butchery. Until Satan gets to that last thing, it’s sexy charm all the way.