Today was one of those day where, without any external force applied or the serious use of a snooze button, I was out of bed before 7:30. A truly remarkable fact. Please absorb it for a moment.

Now, take a moment to absorb the even more shocking fact that I went to sleep at 10:30 last night. Usually I’m finishing up dinner at 10:30 and thinking about settling down with a movie or a book. But, in spite of my excessive consumption of “last hurrah” coffee throughout the day, I was bone-tired. Is that a real phrase? I keep saying things and then not being sure if they’re real. Well, I know that “smedley” isn’t, but that hasn’t stopped me from using it to describe every meal I’ve eaten in the past twenty-four hours. Think of it as a marriage of “medley” and smörgåsbord. First there was yesterday’s “brunch smedley” – unable to choose between buttermilk pancakes and an apple pancake, we had both. Then the “dinner smedley” which was essentially a clearing out of all dairy products from the fridge – a nice little table cheese, leftover baked ziti, a piece of tuna steak (okay, yes, not dairy, but it was a fish week, for crying out loud, and still needed to be gone), yogurt…and of course ice cream. And we end with today’s “vegetable smedley” aka stirfry. Smedleys for everyone!

I have a ferociously weird energy today, where I feel completely listness but find myself doing things like cleaning up three days worth of dishes before eating breakfast, rearranging two half-dead bouquets to create one passable vase full, and immediately doing the dishes after lunch. Now I feel incapable of motion.

As further evidence of instability, I present to you last night’s Forgiveness Sunday vespers. Where one minute found me all choked up about something and contemplating the mystical season of the fast. And the next moment found me stifling hysterical laughter during prostrations after a near kick in the head and an uncomfortably close encounter with the bum of the woman in front of me.