It normally involves me waking up, staring into the dark abyss that has become my face and wondering what I can do to improve my life. Lose weight? Shave? Read a new book? Maybe take up model building.

But no. Not yet. So I’ll open up my new copy of Wired and just kill time in the bathroom. It’s rather nice—we have a skylight, so the natural light looks great. It’s well lit. It’s a blast.

Then I hear arguing. Guy goes on about how the cops are coming. A woman says that she’s not worried. Guy says they should both get off. Footsteps on my roof. People running around up there. Shouting. More footsteps.

And my coffee’s ready. Sunday is a great day.