I woke up thinking that there was an intruder in my room. That someone was hanging from my shitty old ceiling fan waiting for me to almost fall asleep and then at the right time he jumped down knocking off all the books on my nightstand and rolled around on my bed. I thought he came from the ceiling fan because it was moving around like a dead animal was offbalancing the motor. Awful noise I tell you.

But there was no one there. I grabbed my baseball bat and waited for the poltergeist to reappear. I came to my senses knowing that one doesn't wake up completely insane, that it is a slower process involving no-pants in public and shit-smearing on walls, I realized that shimmy-shake was an earthquake. I called K to confirm and she said she had already got several messages from her concerned friends (I am sure mine didn't come through because of the fault quake-ridden network) and that it was indeed an earthquake.

Not a good time for a quake. I need to get beauty rest for a special visitor coming in tomorrow. I started to watch the first part of "Field of Dreams" before bed and knowing that I could possibly fall into a crack in the earth at anytime makes me want to stay up and finish watching it. So I can finally understand some of the Saturday Night Live sketches of the 90s. Oh anyway, so much to do before we all fall into the big crack.