I just got off the phone with PG. He’s going away tomorrow and I won’t see him till Sunday, so we were having one of those conversations where I said things like “Drive carefully” and “Have a good time” and he said things like “Of course I’ll be careful” and “I’ll see you on Sunday afternoon, right?”
Then out of the blue, he announced that his left wrist was sore. Really, really sore.
I expressed an appropriate amount of concern, but inside I was rolling my eyes and wondering what the hell he did to himself now. After all, this is the man who routinely walks on balcony railings and roofs and has gone bungee-jumping a couple of times. He might even have injured himself sleeping, for all I know. (He does have some really weird sleep positions. The most common one is what I have termed “salmon swimming upstream to spawn”. You need to be a contortionist to assume that particular position, never mind actually sleep.)
But I did ask, politely of course, if he had any idea what might be wrong with his wrist.
PG was quite definitely sure what had happened to his wrist.
You see, the inside door handle for the driver’s door of his car broke off several weeks ago. He, as usual, has not yet replaced it. So, to open the driver’s door, he has to roll down the window, reach out awkwardly, and use the outside handle. He has had to do this several times a day for several weeks now.
And this, apparently, has strained his left wrist.
I should ask him if he’s ever planning to replace that broken door handle, but I’m afraid to know. He just might use vice grips.