Two creeds by which I try to live my life, both from science fiction novels if that tells you anything about me, the first from Alfred Bester's The Stars My Destination and the second from Frank Herbert's Dune:

"He was one hundred and seventy days dying and not yet dead."

"Fear is the mindkiller."

I need a plan. Not even necessarily a good plan, just a plan. Once I have that as a fallback position, I can start working on a good plan, and then a great plan, but before all that I just need a plan in case things go south. Ah, I've got it. If all else fails, I'll makey my way to Boston, not to live, but to sign on to a shrimp boat. Lousy hours, constant peril, decent money. A sailor's life for me!

Ah, well, back to work. A legitmiate question, though: why is there a computer back here in the break room with internet access? This can only lead to employees slacking off, like I am now. Curious, that.