Driving home from work the other night, many things weighed heavily on my mind. The bulk of them most likely weighed more heavily than were necessary. Nothing terribly important. Just a whole closet full of nightmares of what may go wrong in my life. A closet full of nightmares and stories I create. Stories that usually end with “…and then I was shot in the head while falling off of a cliff, dying of some terminal disease that with any luck will be named posthumously after me.” I least I close on a high note. Yes I am, in fact, just that nuts.