I have been awake since the ungodly hour of 5AM. Why, you ask?

I'll tell you: I hope to leave on my hundreds-of-miles road trip in time to avoid rush hour in LA. Of course, this will not happen, and I will be stuck in a huge block of cars with an urge to pee that will grow inexorably towards tragedy and a Lord Of The Dance type jig outside a Chevron bathroom somewhere that shall remain nameless.

So I have been pumping myself full of caffeine in the interest of not drifting off into the land of Nod here at my Cube O' Joy. I also took some Tylenol this morning, as I woke with a headache. At this very moment, Acetaminophen (played by hippy-esque zen combat guy Willem Dafoe) and caffeine (scarred and grizzled death-machine Tom Berenger) are fighting it out Platoon-style for control of my immortal soul. My coworkers have begun to comment that they grow weary of hearing the dramatic strains of Pachelbel's Canon emanating from the darkest depths of my soul.

Hey, it's metaphysics! What can you do?