There are days that you will never forget. They are burned in your memory, branded by trauma. April 1st, 2009 is one of those days. It started like most other days. I turned the news on first thing in the morning expecting to catch the weather as I made a couple of lattes. Still wiping the sleep from my eyes, I fumbled through my morning routine on auto-pilot. The newscaster's voice was a low drone in the living room.

Three scoops of grounds...two scoops of sugar...top off the water reservoir...brew...find two cups by the sink...pour the milk...steam one cup...pour the espresso. It was a routine I could do in my sleep.

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You may have grinned and turned off your T.V. I haven't smiled since the last day of March. 

Ha! I can't believe the net is still working. Either there's a couple of die hard geeks sittin' in a room somewhere keeping the lines open, or this whole thing is running on batteries, and is going tits up as soon as the power runs out. Before that happens (if anyone is actually still out there to read this) I'll tell you what happened to me that night.

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