Most of my days since May have been a 1 or a 2 out of 10. A few have been a 3. I’ve averaged a 1.5 over the course of this brutal summer. But today might have been a 4. Tomorrow might be a 2. Or a 1. For now, I’m grateful for a 4. A 5 would be such a gift. 1 day at a time.

Most nights, I sleep 8 hours fitfully and wake up listless & depressed. Last night, I slept 6 hours soundly and woke up as energetic as I have in 4 months. (And I had the most enjoyable, lavish dream ever.) Maybe it’s a fluke. Maybe it’s the Wellbutrin. But man, I’ll take it.

Holy sweet bottomless wells of emotion is this ever a magnificently poignant piece of fan fiction.

This morning I felt good. This afternoon I felt sweaty and disheveled and a bit flat & anxious. Every day contains multitudes. (Ideally I would prefer them to contain fewer multitudes. And less sweat.)

Today I learned I am crazy-irritable-the-next-evening-when-I-only-get-6-hours-of-sleep years old.

I need your top 3 PBS Kids shows based primarily on their warmth, humor, relative simplicity, and/or educational content. GO.

I haven't weighed in on politics much lately, and I'll try not to do so much this fall, but I would just like to say that I have never in my life heard anyone answer questions with more rambling incoherence and baffling non sequiturs than Donald Trump. Truly, it's mind-numbing.