As I poked around the house picking up a few stray items, I noticed how my right hand ached a little and was not fully cooperating with me. This is something that happens to me from time to time—a result, I suppose, of my nearing antique status relative to my age. If I were a car, I suspect I would be one of those old numbers with windows in the back that don’t roll all the way down.
—Mitchell Hegman
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