An arm or a leg?

Our cubies are arranged like an egg carton.  I have the lower right corner.  Across from me is Pat, the blond, high-heeled great-granny.  Next to her is Beth, approx 20-something.  Next to her is MacKenzie, also 20-something, a JBC graduate and a newly-wed.  Beth and MacKenzie are young, witty, lots of fun, and attached like grade school girlfriends. No one knows who is the shadow.

When one’s job description is one word — type, you have a lot of room to listen to whatever you can pipe in through ear buds and as much time to think up stuff, stuff like random What-If Silly Surveys.  Wednesday morning, Beth popped up, followed closely by MacKenzie and the What-If Silly Survey question was “If you had to lose an arm or a leg, and it’s not an option to say ‘neither’, if you HAD to choose between losing an arm or a leg, what would you choose?”  You have to realize there are at least 2, and in Pat’s case, 3 generations between us and them.

Pat: leg   Me:  leg   Beth:  Reeally?  I think I could do without my left arm but I have to walk.  Mac:  You could always get a fake leg, but a fake arm has dexterity issues.  Me: (can’t anyone say “problem” anymore?) Pat: There’s crutches.  Me: See, Pat and I are so close to wheelchairs, it doesn’t make that much difference anymore.  Pat: When I go I want it to be fast, not one piece at a time.  (Mac buries her head and groans)  Me:  Those scooter chairs are cool and if I lost a leg I might qualify for a free one.  Mac: That’s a win/win.

Y’know, sometimes you just have to deal with the cards life deals.  No one can say we aren’t problem solvers.

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