This is not the sort of post-Halloween hangover to which I have grown accustomed.

Last night saw me hunkered alone in the county attorney's office of a courthouse sixty miles from my apartment, frantically typing a fifteen page research paper which was due two hours ago. Meanwhile, my car sat in full view of vandals, egg throwers and pumpkin bombers behind the building. By some miracle, it wasn't touched all night.

Somewhere around three a.m. the stomach aches began. The bag of cheetos just wasn't cutting it, and the hunger mixed with roughly four hours of sleep (total) for the past three days probably didn't help my concentration much.

At five, I threw in the towel and drove home, acutely aware that my driving was inhibited by fatigue. I must have looked like a drunk driver, weaving across the center line. At least I was in good company, as the late-night partyers and early-morning hunters appeared to share my inability to focus on the road.

I crawled in my door at six, barely beating the sunlight to my coffin, and checked the day's schedule before collapsing for two hours of sleep. That's when I realized I had another three-page paper and an exam, both at nine a.m.

Sometimes you can't help but laugh to keep from screaming.