I feel the earth move under my bed

Today I had the novel experience of being awakened by a mild rhythmic shaking and thudding noise. A moment later, Mark woke with a gasp. The shaking continued long enough for us to discuss: what the crap is happening? Why is our bed moving? After a few seconds, we correctly ascertained the cause and alas, I have survived my first earthquake...my first tiny midwestern tremor, that is. My reaction was, "That was really cool!", but Mark's was, "That was unsettling." That's a pretty big reversal of roles from the usual high-strung Whitney and unflappable Mark, but the reversal is in my favor this time. :)

In other news, I have a rare evening to myself because Mark is off hanging out with his fellow philosophers-in-training. When he first told me he'd be gone tonight, I was like, "Nice, an evening to myself will be relaxing and productive. I'll knit and get some things done." But what actually happens is that he leaves, I go buy myself some ice cream and candy, and then I sit around thinking, "Gosh, it's quiet. I wish there was someone here to hang out with. I guess I'll eat..." Sadly, I really don't know what to do with myself when I'm in total solitude, because it happens so infrequently at this point. I feel like I should really be enjoying it, but what I actually want to do is go to sleep early so that I am relieved from the oppressive silence, and my relatively social day tomorrow can come and bring sounds other than the ticking of the clock back into my life. Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock...