Today I re-lit 2 out of 3 pilot lights on the stove in my apartment. I am not sure why they decided to go out in the first place, but more importantly, I have learned that nothing will give you a truly manlier feeling than performing small and easy, yet potentially very dangerous acts of handicraft. You might not have known it, but around 12:35 PST yours truly took his life in his own hands and thrust himself forcibly into the crucible of fate by gingerly extending a small flame over top of the stove. And I have to admit that despite letting the kitchen air out for a solid 20-25 minutes, I half-expected to go up in a gigantic fireball the minute the lighter clicked on. But in the end, the re-lighting turned out to be absurdly easy, and the hardest part of the whole ordeal was figuring out exactly where to put the fire to make natural gas stop flowing willy nilly into my apartment.

Allegedly I used to be interested in more things than just studying Latin. And it has been rumored in certain quarters that I used to do more things than just study Latin all the time. Unfortunately, as a result of structuring my entire day around class, I am increasingly unable to remember what those other, non-Latin things might be/have been. I still do plenty of fun things. But at this point I'm much more likely to be able to tell you on what day of the week I learned about the perfect active participle of deponent verbs than on what day of the week I went to the Gay Pride Parade or on what day we'll be going to a $2 baseball game. All Latin and no play makes Jeff a dull boy. All Latin and no play makes Jeff a dull boy. All Latin and no play makes Jeff a dull boy.