Because these post-apocalyptic dreams where Pete Campbell and I go on a date (he drives an Audi A6) to a restaurant that serves only pigs roasted on spits (Pete: “Sometimes I just have to have pork on the bone.”), followed by a deliberation by Don Draper on who in the office is valuable enough to not be instantly immolated by his Dark Magic (poor Sal!) are really taking a toll on me.