My wife and the kids have gone to bed. I've settled down with my laptop, and iTunes is pumping Switchfoot's newest into my noggin ("You are golden / You are golden, child / You are golden / Don't let go / Don't let go tonight"). I have the laundry going so that I'll have clean underwear and towels tomorrow. My purpose is to sit down and do a nice stroke of work, a good little post, for my insomniac friend when she wakes up at 4 a.m. She'd like that, I think. I haven't written two sentences before I'm reclining next to my wife on an Antiguan beach, sipping beer, and watching elephants swim by.