9:30 am EST: Market immediately heads into a nosedive. Asleep.

10 am EST: Market continues to head into the pits. Asleep.

10:30 am EST: I wake up to hear the market is crashing. Fear mixes with dread. Then NPR launches into a long report about how police have discovered dozens and dozens of dead bodies scattered throughout Tijuana. The bodies are found in schools, half buried, on the sidewalk – basically anywhere where there’s a flat surface. Many bodies are shot in the face, or simply beheaded. I breathe a sigh of relief and go back to sleep.

11 am EST: The market is imploding, going under 10,000 for the first time in five years. I expect people will probably start jumping out of windows at this point. Sadly, I live in a two-storey building so nobody would die here. I continue to sleep.

12 pm EST: The market briefly recovers. Blogs are published across the net, offering new advice and more hate toward the bailout program. I drink tea.

1 pm EST: I get to work. I feet my cat. I log onto LOZcat for fun.

2 pm EST: The market keeps falling and so does gas prices. Since I don’t have a car, a job to go to, any savings, any financial security, a need for loans, at-work healthcare, medical expenses, or even a retirement account of any sort, I still don’t care. I drink my second cup of tea, which is often the worst of the three I usually indulge in on any given morning.

3 pm EST: The market falls under 9600. Pacemakers all skip a beat. Old people start rioting in the streets. Social Security anthropomorphizes and throws a flag through Paulson’s chest. NPR is discussing Prop 7, which involves solar power. I tune out in favor of peanut butter and honey.

5 pm EST: I don’t notice two hours going by. I have my third cup of tea. Much better. The market is closed. Wow, what a day.