Since I am officially the last to speak at the morning story meetings, you'd think I'd learn from the more experienced reporters. Particularly, you'd think I'd learn when to STFU.

We go around the table. Mike, what is your story pitch today? Mike pitches a story. A. Story. Cheryl, what is yours? Cheryl pitches a story. A. Story. Well, actually Cheryl is ambitious or something, and Cheryl pitches two. And Lorraine, what is your story pitch today? And at that point the caffeine hits my mouth if not my brain and I throw out three or four ideas and only really stop because the EIC is enthusiastically jumping on one of my ideas and explaining how it fits in perfectly with something he wants for the paper. So now, not only do I have the story that was supposed to be done yesterday to finish up, but I also have to write up the one I interviewed the fellow for yesterday, in between the office and the Shebeen Club; both of those were approved on Monday morning, but now, because of said bigmouthitis, I also now have three more perfectly good story ideas I'm expected to write up in the next, say, 18 hours.

And, of course, here I am blogging about it rather than writing them up.