I feel sort of slobby. I mean, I knew the apartment didn't look so great before, but then the super came by to check our windows [which are leaking] and change a light fixture [which was faulty]. I sat on the futon noticing all the shit that surrounded me--KISS-opoly strewn across the coffee table, Dorito crumbs and foil chocolate wrappers littering the desk, open aforementioned Doritos lying on a chair, bag open. I should clean up, but will I? Not likely.

In other news, our super has really, really cute Italian parents. Thick accents, broken sentances, and ever so nice. I wanted to hug them both! His dad called me "a good lady" for having the energy saving bulbs instead of the old kind. He's a winner.