Taken At The Flood

Rain falls out of a dull, grey, featureless sky. Autumn has arrived. For the first time in months, I’m wearing trousers and proper shoes rather than a sundress and fit-flops. My black-and-silver-star-hologram toes are covered up.
My mood is dropping. In an attempt to foil it, I’ve raised the dose of my anti-depressant. Theoretically, increasing the dose will pull my mood up. It’s never worked yet but maybe, just maybe, I’ve caught my mood in time at least to stop it dropping any further. I’m not yet depressed, haven’t yet woken up unable to face the day, but I feel neither happiness nor anticipation about a very exciting party I’m attending tonight, and that’s a bad sign. It’s not even going to be stressful – my parents are picking me up from work and driving me there and back.
There are artichokes in the market. After buying a few of them I’m going back to the office to achieve a good afternoon of work.
The Captain has been messaging and even called last night. Couldn’t speak to him as Suzie and Lily were round for dinner. Suzie had in fact made dinner – green minestrone – and even set the table, which was lovely of her. Must pull self together if want the Captain to like me as have met Army Chaps before and they are relentlessly upbeat all the time about everything.
Am going to a swanky party where – hopefully – am going to meet one of my best famous people. Have a knockout dress to wear. Come on mood! Pull your socks up…

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