Your nanny has been gone for three weeks. And your wife works more than any three other non-robots. And your kids have been home from camp, or lessons, or whatever other summer activities they had for what feels like the entirety of the age of man. And if you have to listen to one more person ask for a grilled cheese, or fight over Legos, or complain about the strawberry to banana ratio in their smoothie, or tell you that they hate strawberry smoothies but didn’t want to hurt your feelings so they drank it all and asked for seconds and finished half of yours but now please make them a fourth one that features chocolate, your face will melt right off your head. And all you want is some space to think a thought – ANY thought – without someone trying to stand on your shoulders, or shouting from the upstairs bathroom, or demanding to know the identity of the father of that Starlord guy from that movie we saw.

So you hatch a plan to have a date with yourself. And your wife takes the kids to the pool and you grab a book, a magazine, and a legal pad and set out to be alone with yourself at a decent bar. Maybe you’ll blog? Crap – you’re not yet sure how to do that easily from your phone. And as you belly up to the bar, the awkward seventh grader inside you begins to doubt this plan of yours. Aren’t you gonna look like a loser in this trendy bar, alone with a copy of Kiplinger’s Personal Finance? Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe you should have taken a nap instead. You’re kinda sleepy. Coffee instead of beer?

And then you learn that a “Java Nitro” is a thing, and it’s two shots of espresso dropped into a pint of The Temptress (a strong milk stout by Lakewood Brewing). And suddenly the night crackles with electric potential.