Disconcerting to me, anyway. The nurse laughed, said, "Wow, you're dead," and waved me on. When it was over, I had ten minutes to get to class, so I very intelligently ran up to my third-floor room, inhaled the paint fumes currently wafting about thereat, ran back down the stairs, did it all over again after class, and then proceeded to collapse on the floor.

I assume I did, that is, as that's where I was when I woke up. I also have a vague recollection of arguing with a lad from my stagecraft class about presaging democracy and Parisian prison life. I'll have to look him up tomorrow and find out if it actually happened.

Adieu.