After an all-too-late bedtime (it's not my fault I live in a bastard time zone where The Daily Show and now Family Guy come on between midnight and 1 am!), I was awakened around 5:30 by occasional bursts of loud ringing coming from the hallway outside my apartment. By the time I figured out who I was, where I was, and when it was, I realized it was the elevator (apparently one of the oldest in Salt Lake). Someone was trapped. And apparently, no one else was doing anything about it (they were either as befuddled as I was, or figured it was Somebody Else's Problem. So, I called the emergency-maintenance number and let them know there was a stuck elevator with passenger, and told said passenger that someone was on their way. Well, by this time (around 5:45 am), sleep was pointless. I got back in bed for a short while, but decided to make an early day of it. See - I actually really like mornings. But I often miss them due to my love of nights. Afternoon - now I can do without that.
I got into the office at around 8:00 (yesterday I didn't make it into the building until 11:20) and ripped a copy of Salt Marie Celeste. It's been on a loop for much of the day now. Beautiful, and haunting.
What really got to me, however, was a sudden find of pictures of my great-grandmother (whom I knew - I said one of the prayers at her funeral in 1991) and my great-great-grandparents. Sitting around in even more family history (we found a lot on Easter, including the Western Union Telegram my great-grandmother received notifying her that one of her sons was confirmed dead after his B-17 was shot down in Europe in WW II)... I don't know how to describe it.