There’s a weird sense of community in my building, which is why a neighbor knocked on my door and asked if I wanted to sign up to make dinner for one of the residents. Why? Because the resident suffered a terrible infection that resulted in one of his legs being amputated. Since he is not “ambulatory"--meaning, he won’t be roller blading any time in the near future--people were being asked to schedule a night in April, cook a meal, and help the guy out. I said sure--I mean, why not? I feel bad when I misplace a sock. I can only imagine how it feels to lose a leg.

Here’s the problem: When I bring the guy his dinner, I’m going to say something completely inappropriate and completely by accident. It’s just the kind of thing I do. I’ll try to make small talk, and end up with something remembling this:

“Hey, I think it’s great that people are pitching in until you’re back on your feet.

“Uh...whoops, I guess I just stepped in it. What I meant to say is--I’m glad people are putting their best foot forward.”

“Look--hey--you know, I love those china plates. Did they cost an arm and a leg?”

Right now you’re throwing heavy objects at your computer screen, desperately trying to make it stop--"If Greg wants to go to Hell, fine, I’ll even knit him a homemade handbasket; he has no right to drag us along for the ride.” Sorry about that. I owe you an immortal soul. I’m just exorcising all of this now so I don’t actually say something along those lines. But I’m done now. I’m through. Really.

Besides, it’ll be fine. We’re just going to hang out a little and talk. We’re just going to, y’know, kick it.