Most of the book has been written at a Starbucks in Lionville, PA that I frequent. Monday's are usually my day off. I get up at approximately 5:45 and take the quickest shower I can, given my severely diminished alertness, trudge out to the car, leaving one or two garbage cans at the curb in the process, and join the stream of (usually) slow moving vehicles snaking down Route 100 south from Pottstown. It's a 17 mile trip to Lionville. I am not typing this from there, it's Tuesday.
Yesterday I was listening to Morning Edition while driving to Lionville. During a segment on the hunt for Osama Bin Laden, a CIA agent reminisced about requisitioning supplies for their secret location in the mountains of Afghanistan. He said they sent off a list and as a joke, included 100 lbs of Starbucks coffee. To their delighted surprise, they got it.
I smiled, knowing that even though the traffic would be bad I could get my Starbucks easily, much easier than those guys got theirs. This was a great comfort to me.
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