Reading in Reykjavík

I woke up to a small earthquake around 1 a.m. As I lay in bed, waiting to see if there were going to be aftershocks, I realised it was unusually bright outside for the time of night. It was the kind of cold, flat light that tells you it is snowing. Earlier, it had been blowing hard, the wind whistling in the rooftops and occasional flurries of hail beating in salvos against the corrugated iron and window panes, but now I realised the harsh wind had died down. The city was faintly visible through a cover of light, dusty snow that was being blown slowly and thickly back and forth between the apartment buildings, borne on a gentle wind. It was drifting so slowly that it almost seemed to hang in the air like fog. More than that, however, the city was silent. Totally, utterly silent. The usual muted roar you don't hear except when you come back after a few days in the country wasn't there. Even the house seemed to have fallen into silence. No flushing drains, no creaking doo...

Yesterday, a barely remembered comment from a Terry Pratchett novel about a professor at Unseen University sent me to google to look up from which book it came. The professor in questions was commonly referred to as the "reader in the loo" or something similar, but the results that came up for that sentence (sans quotation marks) sent me off on a tangent. Among the search results on the first page was the following Wikipedia entry, which has to be one of the weirder ones to be found in that estimable encyclopaedia (not that the entry is in any way silly, but it's weird that the subject made it onto WP in the first place). It's a long entry, too: Wikipedia: Toilet paper orientation Apropos of this, here is a challenge for you, Dear Reader: To find a more unexpected or strange Wikipedia entry and post it as a comment to this post.