Monday 24 January 2022. Evening

Three dresses on the bed, in ascending level of fanciness. The one on the right might be a bit much with its glitter and semi-puffed shoulder pads. It’s only a birthday dinner, after all, not quite a ‘party’. But it is the first birthday celebration I’ve been invited to outside of this house in two years. So the glittery party dress is still on the table. Or, on the bed.

Omicron hasn’t been invited to the party (sorry, dinner), and neither has a Russian invasion of Ukraine, full on World War, corrupt governments, or the destruction of the planet. But seeing as they might be coming anyway, maybe I should just go for the glitter dress.

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