Emergency Blip, Truly

Here’s what happens the day after your 5,000th blip: you forget to take a photo all day, until, just as your foot hits the first stair on the way up to bed, you remember the commitment you’ve managed to fulfill for so many years. I guess it could be worse. 

Here is an assortment of things that live on the kitchen windowsill. The ceramic frog is something from my childhood, a figure that for some reason was always on the window ledge above my father’s basement work bench. The little horse is from my aunt, his sister; it was a free token in a box of teabags many many years ago. The weird crawly thing I should leave as a mystery, making it look like I planned all this as a deliberate quiz, but I’ve already confessed, so: it is a very dried out citron, a Buddha’s Hand from our tree. Although I frequently think of tossing it into the nearby compost pail, I keep it because it’s so strange. It is not nearly as old as the other two objects.
If I was tired before, I’m really tired now, having spun straw out of straw just to keep up my perfect record. Well, not really perfect. I missed a few days when I was in the hospital a while back, days that I didn’t want to picture. Good night.