There are times in your life when you come to realizations.

You ask yourself, “Self, how much do you miss fencing?”

“Why,” says Self, “I am going batshit crazy, that’s how much I miss it.”

“And Self, how hooked on fencing are you? How far are you willing to go so that you can fence right now?”

“There’s only one thing that can allow me to fence,” replies Self. “And you already know what that is.”

“Insurance won’t pay for shoulder replacement, we’re too young. Besides, that would still take months on months to heal, this current problem shouldn’t take that long.”

“Are you deliberately being dense?” asks Self.

I study my feet intensely and mutter, “No.”

“Allow me to jog your memory. You, of course, know of The Princess Bride..”

I look at Self like she’s got three heads. “Everyone does. Especially every fencer.”

“Ah,” says Self, “then you will understand. You see, I am not left handed.”

“Of course we’re not. We’re right handed. We’ve never ev—oh. Oh.”

“You understand now?”

“I understand, Self.”

“Good. Now please, for the love of the puppies and kittens, make the withdrawal twitching stop.”

The left-handed grips arrived via UPS today.