R.i.P.od

WARNING: RANT

Well, that was a crappy ass weekend.

Friday after work I was in a not-very-good-mood. Nothing specific, just more of my usual malaise (I hate New York, but I'd love it if I weren't so poor...or so single...etc. wah wah wah) and so not feeling very sociable I went home to pout, and missed my friend's Molly Ringwald film festival. You know Andy's depressed when he skips a Ringwald double-header.

For the third weekend in a row, the A train wasn't running above 168th Street. I wasn't exactly stranded; I could walk the 20 blocks south to pick it up, or about a half-mile east to the 1 train. Still, it's hardly convenient. Saturday was crappy; cold and windy and dark. I was still depressed. Didn't want to face the world, but couldn't bear the thought of sitting at home, either, so I went down to Old Navy in Chelsea to refresh my t-shirt repertoire.

Stupid MTA. The #1, which makes local stops all along Broadway from one end of Manhattan to the other, was only running as far south as 14th Street. And it was making express stops from 42nd to 14th. If you wanted any of the local stations, you were supposed to connect to the #2 -- the express train -- which was making all local stops. This makes sense how, exactly?

Given the blustry weather, the rain, the subway inconvenience and my bad mood, there was no real point in going out Saturday night. So I decided I'd pick up a bottle of Jack Daniels' and just get reacquainted with an old friend called television.

Of course, I had given up alcohol for Lent. So I felt guilty, but...oh, the sweet, smooth taste...the warmth flooding into my toes, the gentle buzz of a whiskey soda. It helped.

A friend tells me that in fact I did not cheat, after all, because apparently Saturday was the Feast of the Annunciation and you don't have to fast on feast days. So I got off on a technicality. Phew. (Personally, I don't think Jesus does technicalities. Especially when it comes to symbolic gestures. Jesus is up there giving me His own symbolic gesture, His hand in the shape of a capital L held against His forehead.)

Sunday's weather was just like Saturday's, but wetter. I was going to spend the morning doing some housework (the plan was to organize the closets!), but I had just turned on my iPod when things started to go wrong. It was on shuffle and it came to a song I didn't feel like hearing, so I hit the ">>" and it went to the next one...and the next one, and the next one, and the next one, without playing any music. And it wouldn't stop. Turned it off, tried again. Same thing.

So I plugged it into the computer, and it said it needed to be restored. Okay. So, I wiped it clean. Then it said to plug it into the regular power cable to "flash" it or whatever it does. Okay. I decided I shouldn't detach it until it was fully charged up, but that took a couple hours. I can't clean without my iPod, so I sat at the computer and chatted with a friend in Texas until it was time to go meet my wonderful friend M.M. for brunch after her regular church gig, which was completely the highlight of the weekend.

When I got home the iPod was charged, so I re-attached it to the computer to reload the 3978 songs I have on it. And this is when things really went downhill. It crashed my computer like three times. Clicking on the icon to safely disconnect the iPod resulted in nothing. Twice I got iTunes to recognize it and start reloading, but after a few minutes it gave me an error message: "Cannot find device." Sigh.

I had some more Jack Daniels'. (Sundays don't count as Lent, either, I'm told.)

So I relaxed on the couch and enjoyed one of my favorite movies, The 13th Warrior, on SciFi. Now, that's my idea of a really great terrible movie.

Then, mourning what seems to be the death of my beloved iPod, I went to bed.

Then I woke up at 1:30 and had an anxiety attack (same old same old, why am I in NY, why am I alone, what the frack is wrong with me that I'm this old and this poor) and...well, I just laid there awake in bed until 4:30.

Strangely when the alarm clock went off at 7:00 I didn't feel all that tired. I cashed in my piggy jar at a Commerce Bank on my way to work: $56.86. After work tonight I'll head up to the Apple store in SoHo and ask if there's anything that can be done. (The warranty expired exactly one month ago today.) But I expect I'll just be coming home with a new one.