My one-week break has convinced me that waking up at five to face a bunch of hyperactive kids is preferable to my current life, where I am spending my days alternating between lazy stupor and reading Popper at devastating speed. But mostly in lazy stupor. Anyway, at the rate I am going, I might finish his Conjectures in a couple of days, and the book looked frighteningly thick a couple of days ago. I doubt this is healthy.