For those of you keeping track of these things, my apartment currently houses over 300 cds, 50 blank cds that ought not to be blank, seven randomly distributed neckties, 6 different version of Tori Amos’s “Waitress,” five guitars in various detuned states, four unread Philadelphia Weeklys, three laundry baskets whose contents need washing or folding, two pieces of equipment that explicity belong to Drexel University, and absolutely nothing edible other than a single jumbo-sized jar of peanut butter. Yum.