Boom!

Denis Leary once said that he loved living in New York City because there are so many different ways the city can kill you. This week, there was a new one: steam explosion! Yes, just in time for rush hour on Wednesday, a century-old steam pipe exploded right next to Grand Central Station, killing one and injuring dozens. Now that's just some serious divine smackdown right there. Plenty of people are flattened by buses, many are mown down by gunfire, but only a select few get to be blown up by a steam pipe.

My favorite part about the whole thing, besides the utter weirdness of a steam pipe exploding in the first place, was the speed with which the powers that be came on the television and assured us all that this was not an act of terrorism. Seriously, whether Al Qaida or ConEd have blown something up in midtown seems a little unimportant to me. Yes, it's good to know that bin Laden's not maliciously blowing up steam pipes and turning 41st St. into a volcano, but it appears that ConEd is inadvertantly blowing up steam pipes and turning 41st St. into a volcano. Either way, it sure does mess with the midtown commute. And I doubt the one unlucky victim really cares who was responsible for the explosion anyway. Dead is dead whether an incompetent utility company or a terrorist cell kills you.

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In other news, I'm all moved in to my new apartment. Well, except for my furniture, which is in Pennsylvania. I've spent the last couple days without a bed or couch, but that just means I've been floor sleeping and spending a lot of time at PianoGirl's place. Sunday, JimmyLuke and I will be heading to B-town to collect his stuff from storage and my stuff from the parents' garage, which sadly is theirs no longer. Once everything's in place next week, the apartment will feel a little more liveable and less like a place where I occasionally sleep and blog.