Exhibit 6.2

If I don't post for a few days, you should come look for me around the 13th floor of the building where I work. I'm either dead or I've become involved some kind of Murakami-esque world of danger and intrigue. I'm hoping for the latter.

The one good thing about walking the stairs every morning is that on the 5th floor of our building a life insurance company has decided to pump their waiting room music into the stairwell. As no one ever--ever--uses the stairs this is a puzzling decision. It's usually set to a local pop station, but every so often it's godless contemporary country or (godful?) classic rock. Sometimes I hit the floor when there's a commercial on and I have to spend the remaining 10 floors pondering whether or not I really am happy with my last oil change or if I should start going to Jiffy Lube.

This morning I heard the faintest sounds of Steppenwolf's "Magic Carpet Ride" as I hit the 4th floor and was able to ride the rock momentum. Suddenly revitalized, I ran all the way to the 6th floor until the song, like the band itself, faded away and I realized, like the band itself, I might not survive the year.

Needless to say, the rest of the white, rock-less floors were profoundly disappointing after that.