This time last night, it was 67 degrees. Now, it's 48. This ... is better. Not good, but better. It's November; it's supposed to be around 48 degrees during the daytime. We're getting there, I suppose. It's a beautiful, windy night, though. Makes me feel like reciting The Highwayman while laying on the back lawn. I've discovered this house is haunted ... or that the air currents have somehow manipulated the laws of physics. When I get home, I usually go through the garage. Now, despite the fact that the door leading into the house is sheltered by an ENTIRE GARAGE, the family seems to have decided ... somewhere down the road ... that they needed a storm door in front of the main door. Don't ask me why - they are strange people. Good people, but strange. When opening the storm door this evening, the front door slowly started to creep open, as though a courteous person was opening the door for me since my hands were full with books and dinner leftovers ... It just ... opened. No, there was no one in the hall, or behind it - no, I didn't touch it and no, it wasn't the cat. I just stood there for a bit, then finally managed an "Uhm ... thanks?" before making it inside. ... interesting. Good times. P.S. Sleep is oh-so-nice. And Lee loves my new Velour blanket. White fur + dark green blanket = anal-retentive Seth. P.P.S. I plan on writing some more on my novel tomorrow ... I have been neglecting it due to school work, but now that I'm all caught up - it's like it's calling to me. And ... curse you, Spiff, for getting me addicted to Sims 2. I hope you suffer ... I hope you suffer a dozen roaches!