I went off the Vicodin hours ago, but...

I tried to read Catch-22.

I woke up two hours later with the book on its face on my chest, three pages from where I had started two hours previously.

And this is where my fall break is going.

I've got to get out and do something before I sleep the rest of the weekend away. I don't have time for this. I've got things to do. Names to take and ass to kick, and visa versa. College applications to complete and homework to do and stories to write and birthday girls (and their gentlemen companions from California) to see and spoil.

Even if it means putting on my combat boots and trenchcoat and goose-stepping around the house just to get the blood going.