Shaken, but not stirred.

At approximately 8:40 this past Sunday morning, I was still in bed, despite my efforts to wake up an hour earlier. I was just about to drag myself the long, painful few feet to the shower when the bed started shaking. It only lasted about five seconds, and in my barely-awake state, I attributed it to a truck driving by. Some time later, I realized that the house is built pretty solidly, and no truck would cause things in the room to shake that much. A quick online search revealed the real cause: an earthquake of magnitude 5.6 that had originated in Palm Springs and apparently was felt as far west as L.A.
I wonder if that makes me a real Southern California resident. I've already been ridiculed by my East Coast friends for thinking that 72 degrees is "a little nippy." And I'm increasingly starting to recognize parts of L.A. in shows like "24" and "Alias," the latter of which I've recently become addicted to, thanks to my housemate and to the house's owner's DVD collection.
I've also been watching this atonal opera by Berg on--get this--laserdisc. I hadn't seen one of those since high school physics class, but apparently the music library's got one of the few remaining laserdisc players in the universe. The opera itself isn't quite worthy of the medium it's stored on. It has, however, helped me learn German. I can now say "good person" and "trombones." Hmm, that'll be useful.