With apologies to Ogden Nash, how can anything vincit omnia // when it can’t even beat insomnia?

I had basically no sleep two nights ago, and a sub-par sleep last night, and I am very glad that I had mostly already written my upcoming column and only had to put some final tweaks on it today, because my brain is not function* at 100% capacity.

I think the combination of high heat and early morning construction sounds certainly doesn’t lend itself to restful slumber, and I’m already given to weirder sleep schedules when my partner is away. At least I’m still managing to make myself tasty food. The other night I made a modified migas, because you can’t go wrong with Mexican cooking. We all want more tacos.

And today I made fried rice. Even though it had the red of Sriracha, orange of carrots and peppers, yellow of pineapple, and green of peas, the lack of the latter half of the rainbow means it doesn’t reasonably qualify as “Pride rice”, thus denying me the thematic segue I wanted for my most recent column, about how Pride Month is the American Ideal.

Although I guess I cheated and just did it anyway. And really, what’s more American than that?

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*And no, I didn’t even mean to leave off the -ing there. This footnote is being added retroactively** to explain that’s just how bad it is.

**This footnote is being added proactively, before I finish typing the above sentence.