God zooms again.

"You've crossed the line, Mark." He says.

The combativeness of these words as written is absent from His tone.

"I ..," I--.

"You've posted a post of pure fiction," He elaborates.

"Oh. On my blog."

"You claim it is semi-autobiographical. This story had nothing to do with you."

I check to see what my post was this week. I often schedule them weeks before they come out. It is that one about the kid in the pushing war.

"I was scraping bottom," I explain. "I got busy and nothing has happened worth posting about in a while. I thought this would be okay."

"Are any of your posts about anything that is worth posting about?"

"If it makes me laugh, it is worth it."

"Well, your year is up," He says, "You don't have to post every week."

"My year?"

"Your year of weekly posts. You've posted every Wednesday for the last year. Well, once you put up this conversation."

"You think this conversation could be a post?" I ask, looking back at the list of my posts. Sure enough, there has been at least one a week since March 28, 2023. But even if this comes out next week, it will come out on March 13.

"Are you sure I don't need one more week?" I ask.

"I'm sure you'll find there is a post last year, on March 21, where I suggest you do a year of weekly posts."

I look again, and there it is.

"Thanks God."

I don't know that I will post every week for a while.