Jonathan Greenberg,

       Thursday. The experiment has revealed one thing at least: David and I have both been using this space as a column rather than as a diary. One problem with columns is that they can degenerate into soapboxes. I’ve been tempted many times this week simply to “vent” on my pet peeves. But, considering such venting bad for the soul, I will attempt a real diary.
       2 a.m. Awakened by thunderstorm; lightning illuminates room through curtains; storm triggers car alarms. Memories of 1994 earthquake in L.A.–noise, chaos, darkness, wrath of nature, increased sense of vulnerability resulting from being dressed only in underwear. (This entry actually written at 8:45.)
       8:30 a.m. Drag self from bed. Small bedroom requires careful climb over dormant wife. Make coffee. To comforting drip and hiss of machine, clean last night’s dishes. Take garbage out, bring paper in. Retain “Business” section. (See Sunday entry.)
       8:35 a.m. Unsettlingly beautiful photo on front page of Times: young man in Dominican Republic digging out foundation of ruined home. Aesthetic reading: Dark brown skin, light brown earth in foreground contrasts with blue sky, five green palms in background. Political reading: Bourgeois paradise depends on labor of racial underclass.
       8:45 a.m. Turn on computer. Has been volatile lately. Every file opens except for those relating to dissertation, which produce deadly bomb icon. Note to self: have not yet showered, brushed teeth.
       9 a.m. Coffee with Megan. She watches Martha Stewart; I do crossword. Theme is “mind your P’s and Q’s”: porcupine quills, premium quality, patchwork quilt. Everything comes out fine, except for 32-down. Clue: burglar. Answer: yegg.
       9:55 a.m. Return to computer. Megan begins work on grant application in next room.
       10:30 a.m. Still procrastinating. Complete list of things to do: buy light bulbs, buy plane ticket for upcoming conference, back up entire contents of hard drive in case disaster strikes.
       12 p.m. Work on dissertation for over an hour steadily. Pat self on back. Go downstairs, drop off rent check. Return to diss.
       12:30 p.m. Megan leaves for work. Goodbye kiss. Microwave leftover ziti-fontina casserole. (See yesterday’s entry.) Return to diss.
       12:50 p.m. Brief phone call with reporter on Rugrats story. (See Tuesday entry.) Return finished ziti bowl to kitchen. Smash toe on vacuum cleaner, suppress scream. Take old grapes from fridge. Derive satisfaction from eating old food rather than throwing away. Wash grapes to prevent cancer. Return with grapes to diss.
       1:30 p.m. Complete section of diss. Take break. E-mail Elliot (kosher vegan lunch partner–see Monday entry) re screenplay of his. Excellent: tightly plotted, very salable. Briefly tempted to murder him, make cosmetic changes, sell it myself, retire. Reject this plan for obvious reasons.
       2 p.m. Shower, shave, brush teeth. Review diary so far. Boring. Contemplate scrapping in favor of piece on liberation of Rushdie. Reject this plan on chance it will increase own chances of being murdered. Realize such idea is symptom of own grandiosity. Look up “yegg” in dictionary. Slang: burglar or safecracker, from John Yegg, famous thief. Return to diss.
       2:15 p.m. Get case of willies upon spotting shadowy form outside second-story window. Inspection reveals form as plastic bag caught in updraft. Still creeped out. Return to diss.
       2:35 p.m. Perform “word count” function on diary. Already over 500-word limit. Make judgment that ending diary here will not deprive readers of excitement. Return to diss.