I've had a weird day, or rather, couple of days.
Last Wednesday, my iPod began dying. First it would freeze when I selected a song, then the music would only play out of one ear (the left), and finally, last night, when I tried to restart it, I got the sad face of doom.
It's a nice gesture that they give you a URL to consult; however, as expected, Apple ultimately recommends going to the store and buying a new one. The sad face is considered to be the ultimate iPod malfunction; before it dies, you see the sad face. I went online to see if there were any alternative repair methods I could try myself; the fine experts at YouTube suggest smacking your iPod a few times. This is a really stupid idea; nonetheless, it was late and I was desperate, so I banged up my iPod a little bit (waking up my roommate in the process.) Of course, doing that didn't fix the machine and in fact probably furthered the damage to my hard drive.
Defeated and despondent--I love my iPod, and have a reputation for inadvertently ignoring friends on the street because I am too busy choosing the next song to play--I decided that I would visit Tekserve, Manhattan's premier no-warranty-required third-party Apple repair center. After walking eleven blocks to 23rd street because the F train I took to get there was a surprise express train, I found out that the iPod technician is on vacation and won't be back until later next week, so it will be a few days (and 128 dollars) before I get my iPod back. That's cheaper than buying a new one, but still, I was annoyed. Of course my iPod would break when the person who could fix it was out of the city. Of course my iPod would break when I had just put a bunch of new songs on it.
I sound spoiled, I know, but my iPod is the one machine I really can't live without. No laptop? I'll live, and use the library's computers. Broken phone? Not a big deal--people managed to make plans in the time before cell phones. But a busted iPod? Just plain sucks. It's not the end of the world, I know, but I love walking places and listening to my music, and the thoughts of just walking, soundless, is embarrassingly dreadful.
Karma perhaps paid me back, though, in the form of an inexplicable free smoothie at Jamba Juice. My rewards card wasn't filled up yet, but I guess having to wait a few minutes to place my order, combined with the fact that I'm pretty much a regular at the Flatiron location, granted me a free original-sized Orange Refresher with a shot of Daily Vitamins. The woman behind the counter winked as she told me my drink was on the house; I was elated, but also nervous, because now I feel that I have some sort of expectation to live up to--being deserving of a free smoothie--or that I have to flirt back with her in order to stay in her good graces. Whatever. The five bucks I saved on my drink, at least for the moment, made up for the lack of music playing in my ear as I headed back home.
Now I have homework to do before a couple of birthday parties tonight. I haven't been going out much at all these past couple weeks, so the idea of party-hopping is newly foreign to me. And I'm still a little sick, even though I've thus far been able to suppress my symptoms with an intense regimen of DayQuil, Claritin D, and weed. Here's to feeling better, free drinks, and listening to the sounds of the city for the next few days.