This must be how sugar cookies feel all the time.

My energy level is through the roof today. And I live on the bottom floor of a three-story building. It has to go a long way to get to the roof. The reasons for this, I believe, are two-fold:

Fold One: Following my erratic, ADD post yesterday about INTENSITY and LITERATURE and ACCIDENTALLY HARMING PEOPLE, my English class this morning had a class-long discussion about what makes literature valuable or worthy of anthologizing, and why do we read the things we read, and why do we enjoy them or dismiss them, and why is it easier to say why a piece is bad than to explain what makes it good, and if our civilization ended, and a new species found our planet and exactly one piece of literature remained here, would we rather they find Paradise Lost, or Harry Potter? And it reminded me, yet again, why I love this major, and why it's okay if I fail math. And now I am ALIVE with PASSION that needs CAPS.

Fold Two: I had coffee for breakfast.

I have been very productive since I replaced my blood with caffeine (and PASSION). I caught up on all my correspondences (facebook wall posts), I went on a walk, I did my Italian homework, and ate some white bean and basil hummus with naan bread and watched an episode of House. When that was done, and Casey was busy, I had to find something else to do. So I went on a quest to find the answer to a question I've had for weeks.

What are the lyrics to Erika Jo's "I Break Things"?

First of all, if you haven't heard this song, go listen to it now. I don't care how you manage it. But this song is a work of genius, and I would be doing you a disservice if I didn't tell you so.

Second of all, WHAT ARE THE LYRICS? Casey and I have been singing it for weeks, very loudly, while driving on our various Errands of Importance to find ice cream, or hummus, or grilled cheese(s), or french fries. The lyrics are very straightforward and awesome until one indiscernible line.

Casey: What is a nanvil?

Sara: I don't know. It sounds like a prescription medicine for headaches.

C: Why is it in this song?

S: Nanvils are in this song?

C: Yeah. She goes, "You say I'm nothing you can't handle. You're tougher than a nanvil."

S:...I think she's saying, "an anvil."

C: Oh. Yeah. That makes more sense.

Except then we stopped to think about it, and being tougher than an anvil actually doesn't make sense. Heavier than an anvil? Sure. More likely to fall on a cartoon character's head than an anvil? Okay. But tougher? We think not. 

We started rewinding the song so we could listen to that line over and over again.

C: Enamel? Is it saying enamel? That would make sense!

S: But I hear a "v" sound! Listen. *rewinds*

C: I hear it, too. But...what would a "v" be doing there? *rewinds*

S: Canville? Is she saying Canville? Is that like a really tough city? That would make sense, too. *rewinds*

C: Is "inanvil" a word? Maybe that whole phrase is just one word. *rewinds*

S: Ganvil?

C: That sounds like Gandalf.

S: THAT WOULD MAKE SENSE! HE'S TOUGH!

C: Except that it wouldn't.

S: Right, except for that. *rewinds*

I know country songs don't always really care about the sense thing so much, but seriously. What is this line? I've been trying to figure it out for, like, half an hour. It's nearly pathetic.

And maybe Nanvil is an extra-strength medicine, and E.Jo is tougher on headaches than they are.

Help me. Or tell me you've horribly misheard songs, too.