Do you ever have one of those days where you do almost nothing except stay in bed, and yet you still feel completely exhausted?

I’m going to kick my feet up, pour a nice, tall glass of o.j., cut myself a piece of danish, and watch some of the boob-tube.

I spent last night with my mom on her birthday. Of course, my dad (out of town this week) ruined the surprise - I am never letting him in on these secret plans again.

After dinner - Cincinnatti Chili is a bit too sweet for chili - with the tv on to the Pope’s “Death Watch”, my mother told me that the pope had been inagurated (whatever the term is) right around the day I was born - (turns out it was more like two months after), and that my grandmother was so excited because she thought I’d been given my middle name (Paul) in honor of the pope. (Of course, it should be noted that the pope preceeding John Paul II was John Paul). In reality, of course, my parents just thought “Paul” went well with “Jeff”, but - of course - humored my grandmother and didn’t tell her the truth (which is fine and good, don’t upset an Irish Catholic woman if you don’t have to).

One thing I learned last night: watching Closer with your mother can be a very awkward experience. “I swear I had no idea it would be like this,” she told me. “Don’t tell your father, he’ll think I’ve lost my mind.”