Where is #4?

Last night, in the wee hours, I was rudely woken by two of my chattier roommates. At a quarter to five, an unconscious Kevin, much like Chicken Little, panicked over a collapsing sky, while a consoling voice from above -- Andy, also unconscious -- maintained the bed was, in fact, in no danger of falling. I, doing my best to ignore the event, am unsure whether a resolution was reached, but pray the debate is not continued tonight.

Kevin begrudgingly worked the LDC today, serving "Spinach Florentine Cakes."

Jon, seen for the first time since the incident this morning, just returned to the room with a copy of the 2002 National Intelligence Estimate.

Andy has turned to alcohol abuse to cope with selling out.

I received a Melitta coffee filter in the mail today.