This week has been really weird, but really uneventful at the same time. I slammed my thumb at work, and a lightning bug flew into my room while the window was open. I seem to be getting up at three-thirty or four every morning. I actually don't mind the last issue--there's a pleasantly eerie quality to the surrounding (or cross-street, I should say) landscape in the pre-dawn mist. I always feel that I'm about to hear sinister keening wails coming from the cemetery when I see the clock strike four (not sure why that's significant). I'm leaving now, to go home, have some gazpacho, watch "Coronation Street," study for the GRE, and go to bed, the same sequence each of my evenings has taken this week. That's probably why it all feels so strange.