Braving the New World

Well, I finally did it, friends and foes. I did it. I finally ventured outside this afternoon for the first time since Monday morning. That morning, upon my return home after being out for almost two hours, I collapsed in a heap … a jangle of limbs, like a marionette unceremoniously flung aside by a pink-cheeked little boy lured away from his new toy by the irresistible aroma of a freshly baked plum pie.
Amazing, how much the world changed since my last active participation. Gone are the hoopskirts and horse-drawn carriages! Gone are the parasols! And the only bustle around is the one attached to the hustle — and the ragamuffins on the street tell me that that was the name of a dance some years ago! I was comforted to see that some vestiges of the old days remain, though, in the form of newsboy caps … but then I was alarmed to see that they adorned the heads of the ladies! And the men don’t doff whatever caps they’re wearing.
It’s all so very new to me, and oh so very strange. But I don’t care what the new customs are. I’m still entering a restaurant by the back entrance, just like the coloreds do!
By the way, I have no idea what this contraption is that I’m using to type. They say it’s better than my old Royal typing machine, and I must agree that it is easy on the fingers. But my goodness, the colorized daguerreotypes of ladies in various stages of undress and in a variety of indecent positions … well, I could do without that!
I’m almost sad I had to get well, and live to see this new world. I don’t know if I want to brave it!