Half empty and leaking badly.
My chair is also creaking on the unstable floor of the collapsing house that anyway will be struck by lightning shortly, I'm sure.
None of it matters though, as I will soon be arrested and wrongly convicted of treason after crashing my car into the last of my dreams. I expect the subsequent hanging to go badly and that I will suffer endless hours of tortured strangulation and ridicule before being cut down, only to go on living for years as a paralysed hate figure on constant public display.