Ensteubulous Thursday

Soft, early morning light filtered through the windows when I woke up this morning, a highly unusual circumstance for someone who’s up well before dawn almost every day. Why I slept in is beyond me. But sleep in I did. The clock said the time was ten minutes after six. I believed it; the light told me the clock did not lie. What does one do when confronted with oversleeping? There is only one satisfactory answer: one makes miso soup. Fortunately, I picked up a package of firm tofu a few days ago and I keep miso paste in the refrigerator for just such an emergency, along with green onions, so I was ready. Except that I had no wakame (seaweed). But one soldiers on, even in the face of such fierce adversity, so I made the miso soup without the wakame. When my wife awoke shortly after seven, the aroma of freshly made miso soup greeted her (as did I) as she stepped out of the bedroom into the living room/kitchen/dining room special combo space. I ladled miso soup into two bowls and placed a plate containing mandarin orange slices and radishes on the table between us. We enjoyed the Japanese-inspired breakfast, then went about our day. Then, just moments ago, I discovered that I had left the sliced green onions in the refrigerator. Horrors! We had eaten miso soup that lacked not only wakame, but green onions! The complexion of the day suddenly shifted from bright and ensteubulous (that’s my neologism currently in vogue) to dim and starchatic (another one, just not as commonly used in written banter). But, just in the nick of time, as my mood plunged from glorious to gloomy, I snatched my brain back from the edge of the abyss, reminding myself that sunny Thursdays never tolerate glumness. So, the day’s complexion has returned to ensteubulous. I now return to my regularly scheduled programming.