Saturday night live

There is some sort of mysterious gas leak on my street ("Don't worry, you won't blow up" is supposed to be comforting somehow), and the industrious folks at Keyspan have been working on the problem for hours. I can't complain about the noise they're making, because, hey, they're saving my life, and yet ... they've been at it for hours. And it's 3 a.m. Luckily, the bizarre noises and randomly flashing yellow light did serve to dim the bleak tragedy that was 21 Grams. I watched Lovely & Amazing again on HBO to make up for it. Jake Gyllenhaal really has perfected the art of being the strange, young lover who, despite his intense hotness, makes you kinda tilt your head to the side and scrunch your brow. Not that my brow needed any help in that department, since I've been working for the last several hours. (I took the high-school approach to homework: Do it while watching TV. Sure, it takes longer, but it hurts less.) My eyes finally started doing the always pleasant fade in and out of focus thing, so I decided to call it a night. Yet there are still men diligently at work outside my window, and I cannot focus and I cannot sleep.