This afternoon as I finally poured my first coffee of the day, the cup began to shake. Now, from beneath the rubble, three profound thoughts resonate through my mind: (1) despite what my kids think, I’m too young to die; (2) while I’m trapped under here, the rest of the world goes about squashing dictators without me; and (3) somewhere amidst the chaos and debris, my coffee is getting really, really cold.