See you on Sunday.

Things I've learned in the past 36-hour day:

• Everything is funnier when you're tired.
• A box of Ritz crackers and a pocket full of multivitamins is not a breakfast to go.
• When you're waiting through the last presentation before it's your turn in front of the class; when you've been up all night; when you have no doubt drank the equivalent output of 3 stalks of coffea shrubery -- it is at this point that muscle fatique will set in. And it will be muscle fatique of the spincter. You haven't experienced true public speaking anxiety until you've been forced to seriously contemplate your escape plan should you accidentally wet your pants while waiting your turn to present.

I'm heading to bed in a few minutes. I wonder how long you need to be asleep before it's technically considered a coma...

I am pumped about this sleep though. I'm going to be REM-ing in record time. Most pronto, indeed.

I plan on shattering the nap-snooze barrier -- picking up momentum as I'm propelled ever-so-quickly up through the known stages of sleep -- and as I cast aside the ragged alpha waves of this worldly tomb that is myself, I'll embrace the rhythmic comfort of the delta -- soaring silent-screaming from the safety of this cold hard substantial, into the soft abstract infinite of the coma-sphere.

God bless Psychology 1000. And beds. Always the beds.