I am not one to look for 'signs' but in reviewing this past year I have come to feel a little unbalanced. I blame the legs. Artificial legs to be exact.
Two right, one left.
I feel I must qualify here. This has NOTHING to do with my actual job. I work in a hospital and prosthetic sightings are really not a big deal. Nor is this a comment on people requiring the use of prosthetics. That guy who ran in the Olympics on blades should have finished off any sort of stigma surrounding amputation.
I am talking about unattended artificial legs. Two rights:
which I discovered while helping clean out the clothes closet at a local church. (Insert Miraculous Recovery Story here.)
and a left:
I suppose I should point out that the Left leg belonged to James Crutchfield, a blues piano man, who, for a good part of his life, made St. Louis his home. As a young man, Mr. Crutchfield lost his leg in a railroad accident. He was a regular performer at one of my favorite places: Venice Cafe.
I am unsure where Mr. Crutchfield was laid to rest, but for some reason his LEG continues to hang out at Venice. Not his piano, or his eyeglasses, or handwritten notes on his music. His LEG. The left one.
I mentioned these sightings to a co-worker. She smiled and said she might have something I would like. It was her Uncle's leg.
For purposes of equilibrium, I pray it is a Left.