I got cut off at the bar last night, after a lengthy run of DCR writing - Dave handed me my debit card and the receipt and said "You're done." I wasn't that slammed, but I was there quite a bit later than usual.

This afternoon, my sister found color laser copies of the first dozen or so pages of ATC, which had been made in the summer of 2003 for my then-future-and-now-past roommate Ben. These pages had been languishing in a polybag at a location neither of us lived at for a couple of years.

DCR writing deadlock + Booze cutoff + ATC pages on doorstep == time to get back to work.