I’m currently sitting at the Peppermill on the strip. I love the Peppermill. It’s my Vegas tradition. I usually come here on my last day. I’m supposed to drive home, the car is all packed, but I don’t feel very good. I certainly don’t feel like driving over two hundred miles. My back hurts and I’m low on serotonin. Where’s my goddamn chicken salad! Not that I can eat right now, but I know I should try. I may have overestimated my well-being.