100

As of today, I only have 100 days left in London. To mark the occasion, God sent an earthquake to England.

As I was drifting off to sleep at just about one this morning, I was feeling a bit gloomy. Just the first pangs of homesickness, I believe. The day had been a really good one, but nighttime brought some doldrums, so I just stayed in (I should have expected as much on a Tuesday, I suppose). But before I could nod off into that sweet land of honey where dreams live, I began to shake. To be honest, I thought I was half asleep and being attacked by some type of cowboy ghost in that half-dream.

The hangers in my closet shook along with me for about 10 seconds before the movement ceased.

Though the quake was significant, it wasn't enough to get me out of bed or to cause me any great concern; so I fell asleep.

At work, in a conversation with Teshome and Tomomi, the question was raised in jest, "Did you feel the earthquake?" I was excited to learn that I wasn't experiencing any of the stages of insanity.

Nope, it turns out there was indeed an earthquake--with an epicenter near the town of Lincolnshire (get out those maps)--that registered as a 5.3 on the Richter Scale [For future reference: I will always use the Richter Scale when speaking about seismic activity]. The effects felt here in London were mild, but obviously noticeable. No one was really talking about it--it happens every 10-20 years. Still, it is interesting to be a part of an earthquake in England, or what I will always remember as the "Vanilla Shake".

If you don't get that joke, then you are not a racist.