Saturday is my 45th birthday. Right between 40 and 50. When the former United States President was in office, I used to tease friends turning 45, you know, because he was the 45th president, and anything associated with that number was bad luck or something. But now that he isn’t President, turning 45 ain’t so bad, right? (Wink, wink.)

Monday I went to a work picnic to send off a coworker moving far away. I saw people that I haven’t seen in over a year. Like, all of us were vaccinated, and we were able to share a space. An open space in a park. Under a pavilion. It was weird and glorious and a lot of fun. In fact yesterday I woke up with a slightly sore throat from talking more in those two hours than I have the entire time in isolation. Or at least it was from talking two hours straight, which I really don’t do.

This socializing probably also contributed to the excellent sleep I got Monday night. Because: introvert energy depletion. (See yesterday’s post.)

Saturday: more socializing! Whoa.

For Saturday, I ordered a cake. We might do games. But we may just end up hanging out. When people I care about are involved, it’s one of my very favorite things to do.

45: I’m ready for you.