Open with care!

Due to an unfortunate affair with a package of razors, I now have a right index finger of the sort Francis Galton defined in Finger Prints (1892) as belonging to "idiots of the lowest type," because I have sliced its ridges clean off.  On the plus side, I'm now capable of "thrilling to the touch of velvet," but only if by "thrilling," he meant "squealing like a child on fire."  The effect of three-fingered typing may be salutary on my brain's plasticity, but for the moment, I'm as annoyed as a one-eyed kitten.  Posting may be light the next few days.