Day 9: the Spring when the world changed

They brought me milk and bread, a stick of butter, and some fruit, bless them. I wore disposable gloves and walked down the ten flights of stairs carrying my camera. I stood by the door of the building as they drove up. They got out of the car, left the bag on the curb, returned to the car. Then I walked out, stood by the bags, made this photograph, and waved goodbye. The custodian was cleaning the elevator as I came in, so I took the elevator up to the 10th floor, opened my door with an elbow, brought in the groceries and carefully disinfected each item.

Meanwhile the trees still blossom. All day I've been humming You Can Never Hold Back Spring. 

After 3 days of pacing and fiddling and false starts, I have found a way to tell the story, and I'm writing. It's coming. I will hold the text close to my chest for now, but I think it may be an autobiographical novel told by a fictional grand-niece of mine in 2034, as she writes her dissertation and tries to piece together the truth about her scandalous great-aunt. I read a bit of it to Sue and she roared with laughter, but then she always GETS my humor. Who knows where this may go? I hope I finish it. I think I have the device, the frame, the kink in time and space that lets me tell it, and there is nothing I'd rather do right now than let it flow. I can turn comments back on, because I won't be tempted to spend too much time chatting, as something else is insisting. 

I could, if I wished, spend 24 hours a day online with this and that because the whole world has gone online and high-tech, but I have something else I have to do. I also want to keep up with the story of all my Blip friends and how we are all negotiating this brave new world.