On the one hand, the pain in my ankle and ass kept me awake ’til 3 in the morning.
On the other hand, I finished reading nearly all of the latest New Yorker on the same day it arrived. (That never happens.)
On the one hand, I finally finished revising chapter 12.
On the other hand, I only have three sentences rewritten in chapter 13. And I brought work home this weekend.
On the one hand, Ricky Martin came out.
On the other hand, John Forsythe passed away.
On the one hand, the problem with my back means I haven’t been able to work out or run for the past three weeks.
On the other hand… wait, there is no other hand for that.