Punishment for the absent-minded...
Woke up this morning to the radio playing Depeche Mode's "Precious."
As I sprawled in my mess of warm duvet and quilt (and duckie pajamas, bien sur!), I thought, "Why don't I own this song yet?" I have a pretty light workload today, so after dressing, I hopped onto Limewire and started downloading tracks for my digital player (almost 200 songs, yet am already unsatisfied with most of them).
Then I realized I had a fantastic mixed DM CD a friend made years ago. I thought, well, why don't I just rip some of the songs from that? Found the case (all the while congratulating myself on locating it so quickly) and opened it.
Horror.
It was gone. Disappeared. Poof!
And it's not in my portable CD case. This is a bad sign.
My first instinct when things disappear is that someone else has taken it. I will confess to immediately blaming family ... who have an alarming tending for stealthily adopting items without me noticing -- by the time I do, I realize it'll take about a year to argue the item back into my hands. Provided, of course, someone admits they have it. It usually requires me snatching whatever stolen merchandise out of closets/drawers/whichever and shouting, "This is mine!" and running away with it.
But more likely, I have misplaced it. Worse still, may have tucked it into another CD case for protection.
Fuckity fuck. My options are to go through my entire CD collection (which I should probably do as it needs to be culled, organized and checked for other missing CDS) or pretend I never realized teh CD is gone. Which won't work, as my mind tends to nag me about stupid tiny details like this. (More than 10 years ago, I borrowed $100 off my then-boyfriend. I always meant to pay him back, but where a normal person would write it off, I still intend to pay him. Not that he and his wife and family will particularly appreciate me popping back into his life waving a cheque, but these things happen.)
This is what comes of being mentally short-changed. Oh sure, I can read books, write mediocre stuff reasonably quickly and make outlandish general claims at the top of my lungs... but for the life of me, I'm always misplacing shit. And because the CD was mixed, it's not like I can call my friend up and ask for another copy.
Nuts and boo.
As I sprawled in my mess of warm duvet and quilt (and duckie pajamas, bien sur!), I thought, "Why don't I own this song yet?" I have a pretty light workload today, so after dressing, I hopped onto Limewire and started downloading tracks for my digital player (almost 200 songs, yet am already unsatisfied with most of them).
Then I realized I had a fantastic mixed DM CD a friend made years ago. I thought, well, why don't I just rip some of the songs from that? Found the case (all the while congratulating myself on locating it so quickly) and opened it.
Horror.
It was gone. Disappeared. Poof!
And it's not in my portable CD case. This is a bad sign.
My first instinct when things disappear is that someone else has taken it. I will confess to immediately blaming family ... who have an alarming tending for stealthily adopting items without me noticing -- by the time I do, I realize it'll take about a year to argue the item back into my hands. Provided, of course, someone admits they have it. It usually requires me snatching whatever stolen merchandise out of closets/drawers/whichever and shouting, "This is mine!" and running away with it.
But more likely, I have misplaced it. Worse still, may have tucked it into another CD case for protection.
Fuckity fuck. My options are to go through my entire CD collection (which I should probably do as it needs to be culled, organized and checked for other missing CDS) or pretend I never realized teh CD is gone. Which won't work, as my mind tends to nag me about stupid tiny details like this. (More than 10 years ago, I borrowed $100 off my then-boyfriend. I always meant to pay him back, but where a normal person would write it off, I still intend to pay him. Not that he and his wife and family will particularly appreciate me popping back into his life waving a cheque, but these things happen.)
This is what comes of being mentally short-changed. Oh sure, I can read books, write mediocre stuff reasonably quickly and make outlandish general claims at the top of my lungs... but for the life of me, I'm always misplacing shit. And because the CD was mixed, it's not like I can call my friend up and ask for another copy.
Nuts and boo.
posted by /hg | 11:41 a.m.
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