I seem to be cursed with the ability to forget things.
There’s no need to worry about my mental health, though. I just have a tendency to always leave one important item at home per every trip from Ohio back to campus.
Take my latest trip to Erie following Christmas break for instance. This time, I double-checked that I had everything in my giant blue duffle bag, backpack and smaller – also blue – duffle bag.
This time, I made it all the way to the street out front of my off-campus residence. I piled all of my bags in the living room, bade my parents farewell and they drove off. I went upstairs to unpack.
After several minutes knee-deep in luggage, I looked around for my iPod to crank up some tunes. The little bugger was missing.
I had forgotten it. But what’s worse is that I had listened to my iPod almost the entire ride to drown out my mom’s book on tape and my dad snoring in the passenger seat.
Someone reached for the pull chain and hit the lights upstairs. I must have left my iPod in the seat pocket.
Yep, my iPod’s definitely snuggled up in the depths of the pocket, comfortably enjoying a ride back to Ohio.
I called up my parents with hopes of reclaiming my little music machine, but my mom regretfully replied that she and my dad had already passed back into the great O-H. She would mail my iPod up to me when she got the chance.
So, for a week and a half I waited. And waited. And whistled. And hummed. And beet-boxed. And sang a little off-key in the shower.
Even the YouTube Jukebox didn’t help. I needed my music on the go: to take my mind off the cold walks to and from campus, to pass the time quicker while standing in line at Knights and even to help drown out some of the more rambunctious goings on during a Tuesday production night.
Fortunately, my iPod and I were finally reunited. I ripped open the package, turned on my iPod and immediately started rocking. No song was off-limits. Kid Cudi, The Rolling Stones, heck even Hall and Oates got a play.
Despite the cold temperatures, I walked around campus with one ungloved hand so I could still control the songs I heard. I hummed loudly, sometimes sang aloud
and mouthed the words whenever I passed anyone on the street.
Maybe I’m addicted to my iPod, endlessly clutching the one device that is slowly ruining my people skills.
But then again, if I didn’t have my iPod, I’d probably start hearing songs in my head like a schizophrenic, and I’m nowhere near ready for that driving urge to karaoke.
