My new leg has slowly but surely wheedled its way into my affections. It was touch and go initially. For the first week, putting it on and attempting to cross a room was so incredibly uncomfortable that I seriously considered not bothering with a prosthetic at all. But then Sebastian pointed out the hypocrisy of my going on and on and on that he had to learn to touch-type during the holidays; that starting anything from scratch was tedious; that there was no gain without pain; that we can’t always spend all our time doing things we enjoy and that he’d be thankful in the end. If I wasn’t going to bother to learn to walk properly, he wouldn’t do his typing. And so he’s on 19 wpm and I’m on a prosthetic leg and one walking stick. By the time he makes 30 wpm, I’ll be walking hands free without a limp.