RIP Kent; Stained Glass, Complete At Last

Tery's gone for three whole weeks, which makes for some excellent productivity for me. Lots of little projects I've been dragging out are now done, which is one of my few genuine satisfactions in life.

It isn't that Tery actively prevents me from doing them when she's here...I can't explain it, she just inspires a sort of lethargy. Maybe it's just that at the end of the day there's no feeling of obligation to spend "quality together time." I do miss her cooking though, living on family-size frozen meals, Jose Ole Chimichangas and Freschetta pizzas and the occasional burger on the grill (not nearly as tasty as Tery's).

*~*

Probably the most important order of business: Our neighbor directly under us was found dead on Wednesday in his home. As I worked my regular shift, I gradually became aware of lots of stomping around in the stairwell, then Tracey's dogs going off. I then stepped out to notice my neighbor on the opposite balcony staring down below me intensely.

Then I noticed the casually dressed firemen chatting in hushed tones and an older woman sobbing on the lawn.

My neighbor across the way (Mike) heard mention of heart attack. I was totally shocked. Kent was a big guy, but he didn't smoke and was only in his early 40's.

We didn't know anything about Kent, just the occasional hellos in the parking lot. He was so private he didn't even have a peephole in his door. And so quiet the only way to know if he was home was to look for his car. He was the perfect neighbor, i.e., damn near invisible.

I called Tery with the news. Her first assumption was suicide. "But he just got a new SUV literally like 2 weeks ago," I pointed out. Maybe he was overcome with guilt when he realized how much his purchase was destroying the environment. We know he was Republican; maybe Sarah Palin's nomination pushed him over the edge. Or perhaps he just couldn't take one more night of the ferrets and the Kitten playing "Cage Match" over his head -- I could certainly relate to that.

But we shouldn't joke about the dead. We should instead selfishly worry about what'is to become of his unit and are we going to get new neighbors, perhaps people not nearly as low-profile as Kent.

The question that keeps morbidly running over and over through my mind is, what was I doing while he was dying a few feet below me? Petting my Kitten? Eating breakfast? Masturbating? Watching YouTube? Shopping on eBay? Did he consider asking for my help or was it over in the blink of an eye?

Now our stairwell neighborhood is down to us, Tracey and her mutts, and the people who hate their shih tzu and literally party 'til sunrise. All those fuckers will live (and live HERE) forever. (Except Reggie and his bastard father/brother/whatev Clarence. They've vanished without a trace. Careful what you wish for? I'm kidding of course, I'm ecstatically happy to see them gone. I also prefer to believe their departure is a direct result of us ratting on their illicit fireworks escapade.)

*~*

One of the biggest projects I've been attacking sporadically and with variable enthusiasm for months now is my faux stained glass window upstairs. Click the cut for the illustrated thrilling saga: ( ::clickity click:: )

I'm extremely pleased with the result (this picture doesn't do it justice, taken as it was with a camera phone and put together with my obviously crappy panoramic photography skills). I'm already starting to think about my next project, but I think I'll rest on my laurels a bit first.

I was going to post some movie reviews as well, but frankly I'm beat. Maybe later.