I had an uneventful bus commute into the city this morning. I was able to sit back, read my book, Five Seasons of Angel, and listen to the lady next to me snore. I am now sitting at my desk drinking what is possibly the worst cup of coffee in the history of the world. Seriously. It is even worse than the stuff my Dad makes. It tastes like burnt dog hair. And yet, I continue to drink it.
–Jane, some caffeine is better than none