Although I am right-handed, I sometimes find it fun to try writing with my left hand.
Except I sort of had to do it for real this week.
Monday night I slipped and slid on some ice and ended up with a very nasty-looking swollen finger on my right hand.
All my happy pessimistic friends decided it must be broken. So I got an x-ray on Thursday.
But it wasn't broken.
Meanwhile, however, I kept that finger taped up to another one using masking tape (a gentler alternative to duct tape, I thought) because it was so swollen and hurt if I bent it wrong.
And by the end of a long day of taking notes with my peculiar finger arrangement, my hand hurt. But I still had a crib sheet for an exam left to finish.
So I wrote it with my left hand until my right hand felt good enough to pick up writing again.