Dear (_____)

Dear doorknobs,

We've had an on and off relationship.  I've torn the pockets out of my jeans on you.  That was not nice.  You've made me look a fool when I've shown up with the wrong set of keys or no keys at all.  You're okay though.  It's my own fault.

I realized today that the reason my shoulder joint was feeling achy was because, instead of using you for what you were put there for, I was disengaging you and then shoulder checking the door open, no matter the door, the situation, or the where.  That's my fault.  I was so used to my right hand and wrist having problems gripping and twisting from smashing it into surfaces with little give too many times that I got so used to using other body parts to operate doors that it felt normal and right.  That's on me.

In the future, with a good and healed hand, I will make better and more use of you.  My shoulder will knit now that I'm not banging on it and my entrances to domiciles and businesses will be much more appropriate instead of sounding like a police raid.

Thank you for being there.  You are deeply and newly appreciated.

Lovingly yours,

injury prone