The Prisoner

The realtor who helped me buy my condo 15 years ago became a friend. She gave me this plant on Valentine's Day when we met at Starbuck's for a long overdue chinwag.

We sat face to face! In a cafe! We hugged! 
Only six weeks ago in a different world.
Now we're all in jail. Well, at home wearing an ankle bracelet.

Today during Senior Hour at Zupan's I bought more groceries for more money in more bags than ever before. What is there to do but eat? And yet, by some mechanism as weird as the virus, I'm losing weight. I think I've lost my appetite. That can happen when you're in prison. I call it the Coronavirus Diet.

This morning was glorious, sunny and breezy and as Goldilocks would say, just right. March going out like a lamb. I put my groceries away and looked forward to a walk through the deserted streets. 

But around the corner out of sight, very loud, I could hear a man angrily yelling. Probably homeless, probably mentally ill, clearly out of control, possibly dangerous. Someone had just told me about a friend who was attacked by a woman on the street. 

I was reminded of Kitty Genovese, a woman who was knifed on her own block in Forest Hills, Queens (NYC) in 1964. She screamed, and people heard, but no one came to her aid and she died. In my case, screaming wouldn't help. Not a soul in sight! No cars, no bicycles, no scooters, no dog walkers, no moms or dads with baby buggies, no joggers, no walkers, no shoppers because the shops are closed. No one., 

Sadly, I headed back to jail. Let's see what's in the fridge. Let's see what's going on in the world of Blip.