Blame it on the mailman.
He left the next-door neighbors’ magazine in our mailbox. Well, that wouldn’t do.
And so I put on a face mask, washed my hands, cut an amaryllis that was opening up today, plunked it in a vase, and walked it and the magazine over next door.
After stopping in my driveway so the woman pushing her stroller could continue on past, but she saw me, chuckled, nodded, and rolled those wheels over into the car-less street.
The little dances we do.