Dammit Kennyb, save your work!

Well, maybe even that advice wouldn't have done me any good, since I don't really consider writing for the site "work" per se. But it would have been nice had my computer not crashed taking with it a half-finished blog. At least it was only half-finished. To be honest, it was barely half-finished. Let's call it a quarter finished, and be done with it. My problem is, while I'm in a relatively good position to know why it happens (what with multiple degrees in electrical engineering and a job as a programmer), I cannot understand how my computer can crash when I'm away from it. I'm not doing anything with it - how can it screw itself up? The way I explain it to myself is that my computer is just like a seriously depressed puppy; it loves me and can't understand when I leave it, so it just pines away for me.

That being said, back to more important things. So, I've said it before, and I'll say it again, but Jeff is gone from the apartment, and so the past few days have been nearly idyllic. But it's funny how little things remind me of him. Some things cause memories to pop up merely from their absence - no one is watching porn on the TV that isn't there, the pile of crap that he hauled into the living room is gone forever (it was actually kind of funny for a while, though. It behaved like the tide - for a few days it would rise until it threatened to reach the landing of the second floor, and then over a fews days it would ebb until you could almost see the corner of the apartment. Never quite reached that point, though, until he left. Jeff was the moon to his pile of crap, metaphysically speaking), the complete lack of half-eaten tortilla shells on the stove.

But really, I'm most reminded of Jeff by the things he left. Like the stuff that is covering the entire second floor, including such items as a broken pane of glass, a useless 19" monitor, 25 yards of twine, and a busted old chair. Above all, though, I'm reminded of Jeff by the sink. When he left, he a good portion of his stuff with him, including his plates and glasses et cetera. He took all of this except the stuff that he didn't want to wash. So when I the night that he left the apartment, I was greeted by a sink full (and I mean full) of dishes, pots, pans, and utensils. He just didn't want to clean them, so he left them there. Got me a bunch of stuff that I needed, too. Sauce pot, pasta pot, colander, slotted spoon, spatula, large mixing bowl, spoons, knives. Took all of the damn forks, though. That ticked me off. Who only takes forks? I mean, at least get yourself a complete set, you know? Ah well. I feel weird calling him a jackass for it since it got me a bunch of neat stuff. But he's definitely a jackass.

The girl (Maria) came in on Saturday to show the place to a few people. As far as I know, only one showed up, an Australian guy named Craig. Seemed nice enough, certainly don't think I'm going to have any problems with either of them. She was supposed to move her things in on Sunday, but didn't. No skin off my toes. I wonder how long it's going to take for me to serenade her with that song from West Side Story (...I just met a girl name etc etc), and then how many times it'll take for her to ask me to stop.

I was supposed to give a presentation today at work which I was a little concerned about, but ended up not having to because everything is a travesty. Again, the moral of the story is never to worry about anything, since it'll all work out for the best. Oh, also, my friend Jeremy left this past weekend for a 6 week long trip to parts west (well, potentially not west, but out of new york, which is pretty much the same thing). Best of luck to him and his sister, and I hope they have a good time.

Yeah, I think that's all I got for today. Streets to the sweet.