Shit.

It's 2 a.m. and I can't even begin to fathom the concept of sleep. My mind is wired and my body is following suit, ready to bounce.

Quietly. The flatmates are asleep, as are most rational people at this hour.

One afternoon in college, I returned to my room to find an email from my favorite radio station back home waiting for me in my inbox. In it, I learned that I had won tickets to see (then pretty freshly removed from the Five) Ben Folds in nearby New York state.

I was elated. Until two hours later, when I received a follow-up email from the station manager, informing me that there had been some electronic snafu and I was once again Ben Folds ticket-less.

For the time being, I'll simply say that I'm half-holding my breath, waiting for another follow-up to arrive.