Pulled muscles have caused an avalanche of other issues. I have less strength in my arm overall. I can’t pull open a sticking cupboard door without using both hands. Hooking a bra...have to do it up front and spin it around. Spaghetti sauce. Fa getta bout it.
I lived with my grandmother when I was in college. Her sister, who was 10 years older, lived next door. These women adored and spoiled me and I loved it. I mowed the lawn, washed windows, pulled weeds, carried boxes up and down steps and opened every jar they couldn’t open. At the time, I thought they were old. I’m the same age now as Gram was then and I’m having jar opening issues. Oh the sweet irony.
Not being at 100% operationally, I have noticed how difficult it can be in a world that is set up to work for those that are. I have gained new perspective and appreciation for the creativity required to navigate among obstacles. I’m frustrated by boxes that are glued so tight only a sharp knife can cut the flaps apart. Bottles that require a seal to be broken first - I’ll drink tap water rather than fight that fight. Then there’s the bacon package with a tiny, tiny flap to pull it open. I’ve started to cut the whole pack down the middle and freezing half of it. At least that’s one way to save my bacon.
I wish packaging was more user friendly for those of us with weakened constitutions. I’m sure someone has torn open a bag to have the entire contents shower everywhere or suffered a cardboard papercut under the fingernail when trying to pry open a box flap (yes, both these happened to me). My misery needs company, so send me your war story ... the funnier the better!