What is it about a hot tub that seems to render you unable to care about how much you are drinking or what night of the week it is? In some ways they are a sensory deprivation box. I say "in some ways" because obviously there is sensation - namely the sensation of being enveloped in hot water with jets pulsating against your back but you don't really feel much else from the neck down. From the neck up you seem entirely focused on ingesting as much alcohol as humanly possible.

In any event, I eventually emerged from 102 C water into -12 C air last night and wandered through the snow to my front door. Before I hit the bed, I did a quick check of my email and saw a new review from Mortley. A quick glance told me I was in absolutely no shape to read it, let alone process or edit it. Waking up this morning, I don't seem to be much better off but I guess editing Mort's stream of consciousness rants is fitting punishment for a misspent evening. Enjoy.