The Screwdriver

You know how when you move sometimes you lose things? Somehow in the interchange of belongings that happens over the days, weeks and months you live in a place with other people your things become so intermixed that it's almost impossible to find all of those things in their sundry places when you attempt to move out.

*** insert witty segway here ***

A few years ago I worked for the devil. Two good things came out of that dark summer. Money, lots of it (the devil has a great payrate) and my screwdriver.

I loved this screw driver, it was adaptable, and amazing. I used it that whole summer, it got scrapes, dents, and banged up from being used like a hammer to pound sensors in. It has character, and I lost it in one of those moves that I've done recently.

And tonight I went to a party of some old roomies and I found my screwdriver. It's good to have him back. Strange how we assign value to things, even more strange are the things we assign value to. I mean a screwdriver? I picked it up for like 5 dollars at a hardware store. But oh how I love it. As a techy I often need a Philipshead, and having variable head sizes is divine.

I love my screwdriver.

In other news: I got snowed on. I was told to kiss a girl I didn't like so much, by a girl. Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog is amazing.