As usual, we got way less done this week than we intended. There's just never enough time. We mean, once you get up and brush your teeth, there's the paper to read. After the paper, there's all those particle-physics calculations to get your Neptune space rover off the ground. And, assuming the launch goes well, there's practically always some sort of phone call informing you of the latest status of your guerilla incursions into small republics to establish strongholds for democratic process, and you know how those guys can just go on and on. Pretty soon it's lunch! If you're really unlucky, like us, some sort of emergency happens, like a rampaging buffa-shark comes tearing through the office. You might not know what a buffa-shark is, but they're big and hairy and have lots of teeth, and sometimes they escape from our research labs and run amok. Then you have to spend your lunch hour hiring new interns. The afternoon always flys by too, taken up with silly meetings, important calls, and the occasional need to fight crime in tight costumes and capes when the mayor calls us on our giant red phone (it's helpfully labelled as "The Crime Phone", and it lights up when it rings).

By the end of the day, we hardly have enough time to put together a drink to send it to you. We always hope that next week will be different. Instead of overslee... uh... doing all that stuff we mentioned, maybe we can just sit back and relax for a bit.

Stupid crime phone.