Yes. Forty-[bleepin']-seven. I can't believe it either.
Three things rescued this day from abject poverty of value:
- my partner, who wished me a happy day when I arose at 5:15am to get ready for a work teleconference (sometimes the time difference really blows) and then treated me to breakfast afterward;
- cupcakes handmade and delivered by Homer and chocolate-dipped strawberries sent by Rob;
- and Facebook, on which I received countless happy-day messages from mates here and abroad.