My ipod is in failing health – or it just resorted to pretend that way until I show mercy to reload it with a breather of changed tunes.
I had come to this full-blown understanding after I unearthed it beneath the fairly thickly coated carpet underneath the mattress underneath the blanket underneath the comforter. There’s no way I could have dumped it this deep even during my plainly semi-conscious, nocturnal moments where music is the only thing that shares my bed. Sometimes I get this feeling that this cute little, two-year old red fixation has gotta be the bravest companion I can count on through days I just want to pull my hair out, for it has survived the most malicious attacks from the hottest barbeque sauce to being run over to soap-soaked bath tub to obsessive playing to reeking laundry bags. Actually, it has gone thru’ much more.
There are things that become part of your body – count the cell phone out but my ipod has become something I can’t be without, even if I’m not plugged to it – I just need to know that it’s quietly lying in there, in my bag. It’s like having in your pantry, the oldest wine in town – humble smugness!
Now that I do comprehend its feelings, I have to respect what it needs the most – some redoing of its musical matter!
Leave the hitches of technological advancements to people that suck at being able to have the sheer fun of it - Man, you have to have an ipod.