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Once upon a time there was this boy wandering the Desert of Ro. His camel had died and he'd long since shed all unnecessary gear... sacrificing weight and protection for a chance at survival. Death was all around him. Harpies and cobras were just the beginning. There were swirling winds brought alive by the evilest of magic. There were wandering beasts with appetites more fierce than that of his own aching belly. He knew not the way home, but knew with certainty the Sun Spires of Kromtorr far on the western horizon led to the death and despair of the raptor clan and exiled giants wielding the might of their ancient ancestors. The southern long and dusty road was thick with great sabertooths and without his armor he would be no match for even their young. There was only one choice left... shown to him by the craggy and impassible cliffs off Prophets Peak to the east... north to the sea. It was the only way. He meditated for a moment to regain some energy. There were nothing but crumbs left in the satchel holding his savory caiman jerky. He winced under the pang of hunger with each focused step. After several hours as the shards of Luclin were becoming more prominent against the starry Norrathian sky, he met the sea. With barely the strength to prevent falling to his demise, his bare fingers bled as he made the decent to the island of the mighty sisters Naga. They looked on with fortunate indifference as he courageously continued in search of some shelter before the cold chill of the desert night wrapped him in a shawl of death. He knew tomorrow would reveal salvation if he could just weather the evil night. Sheer terror overcame him as the faintest siren whispers were carried in on the evening fog now rolling upon the island. Adrenaline shot through his body and the blood in his veins boiled bringing him visions of raging berserker battle cries and better, more valiant times. He began to run... his legs carrying him without his will or understanding. He knew the sirens would not let him wake from their lullaby. There was a small cave just ahead with the glimmer of life inside... hope inside. He adjusted his course, his pace slowed due to utter exhaustion, he arrived at the entrance just as he collapsed completely spent. In almost a dream state, he shifted his eyes upward to the pedestal before him in the cave. It was ornate with deep magic scribing and suspended a shimmering mirror lined with golden cherubs, platinum lattice, and jewels. It had been many seasons sine he scribed the teachings of the ancient magic's words, but he could manage to piece together the pedestal's message... it said, "All your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free... enter here and find the Court of Double Dave's Pizza Works." He knew he was saved. I stopped at Sundale this morning for jalapeño and cheese kolaches for the office. Sundale is a small bakery on my way to work that happens to have fabulous kolaches compared to competing bakeries in the area. They sell the last kolache as I walk in, but promise there are more in the oven to be ready soon. I wait. The ladies behind the counter eye me with guilt and uneasiness as if I were going to stroll out to the truck for an AK-47 to reign fiery retribution upon them for not having any kolaches available when I arrived. They tried to make small talk and jokes. They offered me free baked goods. I just wanted to be left alone and peacefully wait for the oven to ding so I could get on with my Friday. I'm really sick... again. I'm coughing and wheezing. I have a terrible sore throat that lasts through mid-morning and then subsides until around 6:00 pee emm. WTF is that all about? I went through the drive through at Starbucks this morning for some automatic drip coffee... usually not very good from them, but it contains vitamin caffeine and that makes up for the ill flavor. I missed the window in a little vignette that may have well been a Nyquil commercial. I didn't feel like being polite to the barista, so I wrote a note on a napkin and handed it to her when I got to the window. "Venti coffee of the day, please." Surely, my morning crabbiness would have lashed out if I spoke after seeing her flare. She had at least 15 pieces of flare. An underachiever. I have been staring at my study material all morning with not a lick of progress. I can't concentrate. I peer past the ink as if there is something in the paper behind it... you know, read a page and then don't remember what you just read. It obviously isn't jiving with my schedule. I have 2 weeks before attempt number 1 at my recert. Friday the 13th seemed like a fitting day. Sip some coffee. Think about being somewhere else. It is Friday after all...