As hour seven of fourteen total captive meeting hours approaches think both my mind and body are giving up on me. An accountant slash computer programmer is speaking at a hundred miles per hour with bursts up to one fifty about a dry and boring subject. C R ap! I type this in-between fake attentive head nods as I am located in her sight line. I would kill the guy next to me for a nap. That’s not such a bold statement because I can’t stand the idiot and would probably get some kind of award from the class.