Two weeks ago, I was telling Andrew how much I loved my iPod. It was a 2006, 5th generation video iPod (with a color screen!), it had 80G of memory, and I loved it. I also smugly declared that I had no need or desire to get a new, fancy iPod touch- unless they come out with one that has the same amount of memory as this one. (I have a lot of music. A LOT of music.)
Given that flash memory isn't quite there yet, I had been more than content with my precious iPod. Also, I told Andrew, since I take *exceedingly* good care of my stuff, I wasn't planning on replacing this iPod until the hard drive fails. Verne and I were in agreement on that one. We were smug as could be, and Verne may have thrown in a "Kids these days!" just for good measure.
The very next day, in a feat of spectacular klutziness, I managed to do a *spectacular* job dropping my iPod. I don't think I could have *thrown* it harder than it managed to drop.
No big; I've dropped it before. A few times. When I fired it up the next day, I noticed this:
Hm. I could still *mostly* see what I was selecting, but over the next few days the screen got worse. And worse.
Still, Verne and I were intent not to replace this iPod. ("Kids these days", see above.)
With drama worthy of Sarah Bernhardt, I put my hand to my forehead and told Andrew that I would soldier on with a cracked screen.
Andrew, earning his nomination for Husband of the Year, kidnapped my ailing iPod and now, check it out:
All better. Apparently, Andrew took my old iPod to go live on a farm**. Probably with LukeWarm, our old oven. Apparently, at the farm, Andrew found this little iPod who happened to need a home. You see, he's an older model, and nobody seemed to want him.
Andrew took him by his sync cable, and let the new iPod know that he'd have a long, happy life with me.
Provided that I don't drop him, that is.
** The "farm" is the Apple Repair/Replacement program, in case you're curious. Or you happened to destroy your screen, too.