4:00, wallow in self pity;
4:30, stare into the abyss;
5:00, solve world hunger, tell no one;
5:30, jazzercize; 6:30, dinner with me - I can't cancel that again;
7:00, wrestle with my self-loathing... I'm booked. Of course, if I bump the loathing to 9, I could still be done in time to lay in bed, stare at the ceiling and slip slowly into madness. But what would I wear?