Rotator Cuff, the Metaphor

The orthopedist (or orthopaedist, if you're into such diphthongs) says I have a rotator cuff problem. It might be bursitis or tendinitis (a word frequently misspelled). It's also called Shoulder Impingement Syndrome. It's my right wing (the Sarah Palin section of the body), even though I'm left-handed and mostly left wing. The doc says the rotator cuff essentially keeps my arm from flying off my body. I'm now going to physical therapy a few times a week and have to do a series of exercises in the meantime. Sometmes I do, sometimes I don't.

What's the prescription for my more frequent malady, Interlocutor Infringement Sindrome? What exercises are recommended to thwart my propensity for the conversational interruption (talkus interruptus), the errant comment at the inopportune moment? Maybe that's how I developed TMJ, from biting off sentences. Naw. Doesn't happen enough. My sentences more frequently wander off like the fly fisherman's lure cast into a burbling brook.

Carry on.

As you were.

Have a pleasant Labor Day, in America -- or a fine-fettled Monday elsewhere.