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Dimensions of Human Contact
And the men in white coats
I have only come into contact with one other human being in the last forty-eight hours.
Is that a weird thing to say? Should the men in white coats be alerted?
Actually, it is something I cannot say very often. Usually I am a participant in the so-called 3-D world on a daily if not hourly basis. But every few years I go through a period where I disengage from the 3-D and become a super recluse. It usually lasts a month or two or three. I never actually kept track. At the end of every one of these periods is…
… change.
It is the only way out of the maze.
The one human being I came into contact with over the last forty-eight hours is named Cindy. At least that is what her name-tag says. She was the cashier at the local convenience store this morning when I stopped to buy a Pick5 lottery ticket and the smallest container of milk that they had.
It is like Cindy has a switch. Sometimes she is a non-stop chatter-box and other times she is like a perfunctory robot who just barely manages to get out, “Did you find everything okay? Thank you, have a nice day.”
Well, today her switch was switched to ‘robot.’
