The master plan

Years have gone by since I bought my first MP3 player. I had just graduated from high school; back then an MP3 was the size of a brick and about as heavy. My player could hold a grand total of eleven songs. It took an hour to download them from Windows Media Player, and the sound quality was horrible. It ate batteries like I eat leftover Chinese food. Needless to say, that relationship did not last.

Christmas the year before last, I pulled one from a box. It was love at first sight, the shiny pink Sony player held hundreds of songs, almost every CD I had in my collection. I used it and used it. I set it up to play over my pathetic car stereo system while I drove, I wore it while I ran, we went everywhere together. I learned to knit socks with headphones on, took it on the walks between buildings on campus. I studied with it. I loved that thing, more than any other little electronic device I had ever met.

But then, my love grew to be too great. I bought too much music, and since I loved it all, I put it all on the little player. And it grew too full. Now it's pink belly is swollen with music, and I have even more waiting in the wings. I need more.

There is a plan in place.

Every birthday, I get money. This will go in the i-Box, where my MP3 money lives. My textbook buy-back money is in the box. If money remains after the car purchase, a portion will make up the difference. I am getting an i-pod. The one with the movies. I will get Monk. I will play it as I knit. There are knitting podcasts. Need I say more?

Life will be good. Very good.