Is there a hell?

I am, if you've been reading Ad Aged you'd know, ensconced in the middle of a two-week exercise my agency calls a "hothouse."

This is a round-the-clock affair where we work all day and into the night trying to solve some problem or another.

On Tuesday, our second day of the hothouse, we all got called into a group meeting. We returned to our wobbly desks clear out in the open after about 45-minutes. Someone, some bastard, stole the little $9.95 adapter that works with my old Macbook power source and lets me use it on my new machine.

I will say this to whoever stole it.

You'll wish there is a hell.

Because it's surely better than the place I have picked out for you.