I'm out at my parents', groggy with migraine (true to life). Steve is there, and John Powell, and I want to talk to them about how long they will be there, so we can make some plans to hang out.

I find them in the parlor, attempting to play ping-pong. They haven't played in years, and the table is flat on the floor, and is only a half of a real ping-pong table.

I think they get it up off the floor, but I'm still trying to explain that it is only half a table. I can't explain because of the headache and grogginess.