I just got an email that may make my mood bulletproof. We'll see how it turns out, but *booya.*
Just before Ed and I departed for Windsor, my ipod (my beautiful, glorious little ipod, whom I named Zaphod) stopped working. Just refused to play one morning after a generous wall-charge. No little icon of death. Occaisionally, a little batter light would flicker. After a while, nada. Wasn't even recognized by my pc when I usb'ed it.
The Apple service agreement scared me at first -- if they think nothing wrong with your 'pod, they'll sned it back and charge you $100. That, and several other clauses involving mentrual blood and the eyes of Apple's enemies put me off some. But after a day with no working ipod, I cracked and sent it in. Life isn't the same without a customized soundtrack. That, and the creepies on the bus are less liable to strike up disturbing conversations with you when you have little white buds in your ears.
Last night, I checked my account and my ipod had finally arrived at the service center in Ontario somewhere. I was happy it got through the mail, and hoped it arrived before I had to climb back on a plane to spend more valuable vacation time in Windsor.
This morning, 12 hours after I got my last email, I recieve another: they're replacing my ipod in its entirety. And the replacement has already been sent. I should have it before the end of the week. The little dance I did in my chair was truly humiliating, had anyone but the cats seen it.
This may seem like a dull topic for a whole entry, but its oming up on 2 weeks now I've been podless, and I ahve felt the loss. It's amazing how far you can retreat into your own brain when all you can hear is music. I long for bus rides to be brief holes of peace and imaginitive independance again, rather that bumpy ordeals. I want to *want* to go to the gym again, so I can plug myself in and bike effortlessly, lost in my workout soundtrack.
I am such a consumer whore.