Dear Work,

I've been at you since 7:30 this morning, and 3.5 hours later I've gotten next to nothing done, I'm dead-tired, and I'm battling a raging caffeine-withdrawal headache from being two days without coffee. I know I'm supposed to be here for ten hours today (woot, flextime!), but I just don't foresee much actual *work* getting accomplished. So let's cut a deal: I will sit here at my desk and shuffle papers around, occasionally getting up to retrieve something from the printer, and you will not pile up while I take a mental vacation involving me, a margarita, a tropical beach, and an unidentified mystery man whose only dream is to keep me drunk, well-massaged, and loved, and may or may not be named "Paolo".

Trying to look busy,
R