i-don't-pod

I have a very shameful confession to make: I have no i-pod.  No mp3 player.  I don't know how that happened, but the recent music headphone technology has passed me by.  H even bought an i-pod two (three?) years ago, and it's been collecting dust on his dresser when he's not using it, full of some of my very own music.  I listen to the radio, or to cd's in the car, and to nothing when I'm walking.  I have to put up with the horrible college rock they play at my gym (if I hear that Taylor Swift song "You belong with me" one more time...), and I read novels on the bus.  I sometimes wander online to the old last.fm radio at work when I'm doing something mindless, too, a little treat for myself.  (I have a little, secret piece of paper where I'll scribble down notes about which bands I like periodically, hidden just enough to hide its true purpose under my pencil holder.)  When I listen to podcasts I either sit at my computer and surf the net or play some old-fashioned game like tetris or solitaire, or I perch the speakers somewhere nearby while I do mundane housework, like prepare a meal or unload the dishwasher.  It's true, I get an overdose of what's actually around me much too much of the time, including strange half-conversations that people have into their cell phones (one of the best: "Pickles??  Pickles!! Pickles!  Yes!!"), real conversations that people have in person (one of the most intriguing: "So, apparently her dad is worried about her, like, not being taken care of after the wedding, so he pulls David aside and offers him $10,000, just like that...") , and, every now and then, very intense conversations people have with themselves ("The devil's gonna get us all!  Yes he will!"...err...maybe that one was actually directed at me...).  

The funny thing is, I'm totally unopposed to using that spare i-pod most of the time.  (I really do hate that Taylor Swift song.  And "Who got the hootch", which has been known to play every so often, too...oh god.  Don't get me started on that one).  It's mostly just that I'm not in the habit of grabbing it or thinking about it.  Maybe, after writing about it, it'll cross my mind more as a possible accessory.  In the meantime, bring it on, Philadelphia.  I suppose I can take it.