It is 9 p.m.
I’m sitting on my bed unable to decide which picture of a front door I should paste into a Google spreadsheet. I change it yet again, this time to a pristine pink front door surrounded by a balloon arch in a complimentary colour palette.
It’s 9:15 p.m.
I am stressed… what if no one comes?
What is worse than being alone on a Saturday night? Being alone in a spreadsheet, that is what. Being alone in a spreadsheet that you’ve half-decorated for a party, and sent invites out for, one in which you made a special “coat room” tab and drew a dance floor.