the sound of one hand washing

So we got up dark and early on Wednesday and drove to the airport.They ran a bomb detector over my cast ,  gave me a very discrete pat down, and then we got on the plane for LA to watch the family Eagle Scout graduate from high school. The airline temporarily misplaced our suitcase.  The  rental car place turned out to be down a narrow alley (it only looked scarey from the back.  Very spiffy in front.)  We got a bit lost on the way to the hotel, but figured everything out in time.  And everywhere I had to use the restroom, I had to struggle through the whole process one-handed.  Thank /god for elastic waist trousers.  I would leave everything with DH and go stand in the line (Ladies' rooms always have a line.) And when I was done, I got to go through the process of washing one hand, using that very same hand.  By that time, DH, though heroically patient, would be wondering if I had been mugged.

No time to blog.  More detail, and phots later