I wake from my slumber. The dawn of a new day. Roll out of bed and reach for my drug of choice. Grind, press, pour, sip. Ahhhh. Synapses fire. Eyes open a little wider. Sweet bitter nectar of the gods. Open the door for a weather check. A bank of low clouds so solid I might as well be a in a biodome. Damn weather man, where are my high puffy clouds.