going out during lockdown

Hi there

On Tuesday i walked to the chemist's to pick up some prescription medicine.  I got so excited preparing for the journey.

I threw open my wardrobe door.  I'm-going-out!-I'm-going-out!  Wow!!  Except for that one hopeless  time when I tried hobbling up the road on my bad ankle, I'd been stuck inside - without a street-walk - for over a month.

I rifled through my clothes.  Nope, a black business-like blouse wasn't suitable for my first trip outside;  I needed to pick out something that denoted sunshine, and rainbows, and hoo-ray.  Nothing that shouted Covid-19 or doom.

Perhaps a sparkly top that I'd bought in Las Vegas?  Wait-no, not that!   I didn't want to blind the chemist with all my fabulous glitter.

Jeans?  A dress?  A skirt?  A coat?  Jacket?  Ball-gown?  Tiara?

I pawed through my wardrobe, my heart happily racing, and throwing clothes left, right and centre, over the bed, the floor, the hallway.  No wearing of sweat pants, old t-shirts, and slippers with cute panda faces for me today.

It took an hour to find a nice ensemble to get me to the chemist's.  Okay, the chemist is only a three minute walk away from my house -  and I only came across two people whilst on my trek  - but in the old days I would've worn jeans and a sweater to get there, and today was new days for me, not old days.  I was stepping out in my leaving-the-house clothes, and with a jaunty stride.  On my way to Being Me again.  Move aside Covid-19, Lorraine is (almost) back.  See me, people, hear me roar ...