“Gooood Morning!” I exclaimed gleefully, as I burst into the — nope.

When I opened my mouth to greet my roommates, out came a pitiful squeak that wasn’t loud enough to reach the other side of the living room and rouse the attention of Nat and Hanna. Not ready to admit defeat, I cleared my throat and yelled a second time: if at first you don’t succeed, make a fool of yourself again.

Clearly, the giant toad residing among my vocal cords isn’t too keen on chitchat. So I was soundless still.

I don’t normally Instagram my food unless it is more breathtaking than a sunset or more beautiful than my face. And since it’s noon, the Sun shows no sign of imminent defeat. Also, I look like a naked mole rat. Basically, this is the most attractive I’ve ever been and could ever hope to be, so this moment needs to be documented. You know, for the grandkids.

Yes, I sound like a 90 year-old Emma Stone who took up smoking in preschool. My voice let me down — but you know what never does? Brunch. Scrambled tofu, tandoori-spiced sweet potatoes and onions, sautéed kale, and beet hummus: super thankful that God made flavors today. Here’s hoping color is the cure to the Common Cold, and that I will live to annoy the roomies with my unbroken banter once more.

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