30 December 2008
Reseller
I can identify with the writer of this piece ― I love a good book, but it isn't easy to resist a bargain.
I bought a copy of a new book from a reseller via Amazon.com months ago ― a brand new copy (at least, it appeared to be) at a fraction of the cover price, an even better bargain than Amazon's customary discount. I'd often wondered, as both reader and publisher, where do these books come from? Had they been shoplifted? Or stolen as part of a more organized theft from, say, a retailer or distributor? Were they really new? I thought I'd satisfy my curiosity.
The book proved mildly interesting, though disappointing (I devoured it more like a magazine article than a book), and I soon sold it to someone else, via Amazon. (I've forgotten how much it sold for, probably even less than I paid for it.) I've since sold dozens of books ― some had been given to me as gifts, though I already had them, others I just couldn't find much interest in. I don't do it for the money so much as the pleasure and satisfaction I get from knowing that a book will be put to better use than just sitting on my shelf, gathering dust. Now I know where at least some of those books come from.
(I've been thinking of offering this book, which has been sitting next to my bed for the past year, during which time I've hardly scratched the surface — much as I'm interested in the subject matter, the book just hasn't sustained my interest. But Mr. O'Malley has left his teeth marks in the dust jacket and spine, and I wouldn't feel right selling it.)
I suppose it would be easier to make use of my local library, but for some reason, I've never felt the same investment in a book when I simply borrow it. (And knowing my peculiar reading habits, I probably wouldn't make the best library patron.)
I bought a copy of a new book from a reseller via Amazon.com months ago ― a brand new copy (at least, it appeared to be) at a fraction of the cover price, an even better bargain than Amazon's customary discount. I'd often wondered, as both reader and publisher, where do these books come from? Had they been shoplifted? Or stolen as part of a more organized theft from, say, a retailer or distributor? Were they really new? I thought I'd satisfy my curiosity.
The book proved mildly interesting, though disappointing (I devoured it more like a magazine article than a book), and I soon sold it to someone else, via Amazon. (I've forgotten how much it sold for, probably even less than I paid for it.) I've since sold dozens of books ― some had been given to me as gifts, though I already had them, others I just couldn't find much interest in. I don't do it for the money so much as the pleasure and satisfaction I get from knowing that a book will be put to better use than just sitting on my shelf, gathering dust. Now I know where at least some of those books come from.
(I've been thinking of offering this book, which has been sitting next to my bed for the past year, during which time I've hardly scratched the surface — much as I'm interested in the subject matter, the book just hasn't sustained my interest. But Mr. O'Malley has left his teeth marks in the dust jacket and spine, and I wouldn't feel right selling it.)
I suppose it would be easier to make use of my local library, but for some reason, I've never felt the same investment in a book when I simply borrow it. (And knowing my peculiar reading habits, I probably wouldn't make the best library patron.)
28 December 2008
Good Riddance
I like this idea, though more in concept than as a sort of self-promotional tool. (It's been organized by the Times Square Alliance, to promote the traditional New Year's Eve ceremonies in Times Square — as if that event was somehow in need of more promotion, or for that matter, greater attendance.) But I appreciate the desire for catharsis and release, this year perhaps more than ever.
When?
It is Sunday, isn't it? It sort of feels as though it is. Or it should be, at least. But I'm not entirely certain...
Without the beacon of a regular schedule, I occasionally lose my way in the fog of the days.
Without the beacon of a regular schedule, I occasionally lose my way in the fog of the days.
25 December 2008
Merry
It has been a day of building and creating for my son and I — a blur of switches, gears and motors. Such was the theme of so many of his gifts.
I was sure the Lab Coat would be one of those gifts that would quickly be tossed aside, as soon as he realized it wasn't something fun. And it was, of course. But my son was encouraged to put it on just as we started working on a project together, and he wore it with great pride for virtually the entire day. And he looked adorable! (I've promised to make him a laminated ID badge to go with it.)
The Lego Robot we built and hastily programmed before bedtime made several attempts at it's assigned tasks, and promptly drove off the kitchen table. We'll try again tomorrow — this time on the floor.
I was sure the Lab Coat would be one of those gifts that would quickly be tossed aside, as soon as he realized it wasn't something fun. And it was, of course. But my son was encouraged to put it on just as we started working on a project together, and he wore it with great pride for virtually the entire day. And he looked adorable! (I've promised to make him a laminated ID badge to go with it.)
The Lego Robot we built and hastily programmed before bedtime made several attempts at it's assigned tasks, and promptly drove off the kitchen table. We'll try again tomorrow — this time on the floor.
23 December 2008
Little Flower
I meant to mention this months ago, but I didn't want to spoil a pleasant surprise (and then, I promptly forgot all about it) — hand made caramels makes a splendid gift (or a pleasant surprise!) at almost any time of year...
Inbetween
I am, and I will readily admit this, a bit out-of-step with prevailing attitudes toward Christmas. I'm not observant of any religion, so that's out, and I'm uncomfortable with what this holiday seems to have become for many — a brightly-lit bacchanalia of commerce that seems to begin even before the end of Halloween. (I know this might seem ironic to anyone who regularly reads this blog, having virtually watched me spend hundreds of dollars on almost completely inappropriate gifts for my six-year-old — but my common sense sometimes fails where kids are concerned.)
As far as Christmas goes, I feel inbetween, neither here nor there.
So I have come to think of this as a time for reflection. This has been a beautiful, chaotic year; at times good, bad, and indifferent. At the end of this year I am in a mood for both forgiving and forgetting, with hope that the past will be allowed to remain past — and the future will be as exhilarating as ever.
As far as Christmas goes, I feel inbetween, neither here nor there.
So I have come to think of this as a time for reflection. This has been a beautiful, chaotic year; at times good, bad, and indifferent. At the end of this year I am in a mood for both forgiving and forgetting, with hope that the past will be allowed to remain past — and the future will be as exhilarating as ever.
22 December 2008
Vanquished
Today I'm feeling — defeated. The collision of disparate events, both kept away as long as possible, has left me feeling exhausted and low. Tomorrow will be better, I'm sure, but tonight? I want nothing more than to crawl into bed and hide myself away from the world.
21 December 2008
Feed
I've been feeding the deer that wander through this back yard, off and on, for as long as I've lived here. (It's feed that's meant for horses, but it's sweetened with molasses, and the deer adore it.) I have continued to do this, even though I'm really not supposed to (and for good reason), though less frequently, now mostly in the cooler months.
Each year there are regular visitors that I come to recognize — often because they come to recognize me. I'll see them peer in through the back door, as if they're hoping to find someone at home.
For the past several months I've been watching a group of five, three young adults and two fawns that still seem very small, much smaller than I would have expected at this time of year. They would turn up every few days, more so as the season wore on. I'm concerned about the size of the fawns, and feel obliged to help (in whatever small way I can), so I'll almost always put food out when I see them. They haven't grown all that much larger, but they're obviously putting on weight for the winter.
Another pair I only see every so often, a young doe and a fawn, both with a noticeable limp. They get around with some difficulty, yet they seem to manage, somehow. But I want to help them, too. Or, at least, to believe I am.
Each year there are regular visitors that I come to recognize — often because they come to recognize me. I'll see them peer in through the back door, as if they're hoping to find someone at home.
For the past several months I've been watching a group of five, three young adults and two fawns that still seem very small, much smaller than I would have expected at this time of year. They would turn up every few days, more so as the season wore on. I'm concerned about the size of the fawns, and feel obliged to help (in whatever small way I can), so I'll almost always put food out when I see them. They haven't grown all that much larger, but they're obviously putting on weight for the winter.
Another pair I only see every so often, a young doe and a fawn, both with a noticeable limp. They get around with some difficulty, yet they seem to manage, somehow. But I want to help them, too. Or, at least, to believe I am.
20 December 2008
If only I had known...
How is it that I went all these months without hearing Sarah Palin referred to as "Caribou Barbie"? That's just brilliant!
19 December 2008
Errand
I've just returned from having spent three hours on an errand that, on virtually any other day, might have taken me a half-hour, at best. The snow was just beginning as I left, but quickly became powerful enough to make driving difficult. So I crept along as the snow accumulated on the road, along with everyone else, there and back.
I'm not particularly put off by driving in this sort of weather, though it leaves my wife panic-struck. I certainly don't have a great deal more experience in doing so, and it I hope isn't foolish confidence. Perhaps I'm just a bit more cautious than most.
And the snow certainly does look beautiful.
I'm not particularly put off by driving in this sort of weather, though it leaves my wife panic-struck. I certainly don't have a great deal more experience in doing so, and it I hope isn't foolish confidence. Perhaps I'm just a bit more cautious than most.
And the snow certainly does look beautiful.
Snow Day!(?)
Tomorrow the enduring ritual of Will We Have A Snow Day? begins anew. There's snow in the forecast — and lots of it! — but it's a question of timing. Snowfall is expected to start just as the school day is beginning, and to become intense enough to make it difficult to get everyone home safe in the early afternoon. So it's a good bet school will be closing early — but will they consider it worth the effort to get everyone in for just a few hours?
I don't remember the school district I grew up in as being quite so cautious about inclement weather. Back in the day, the schools would close because there was snow on the ground — never because of the threat of snow. And it took more, much more than the pale dusting that has become enough to throw school districts into a panic. (What a glorious time to be an Elementary School student!)
I lived for many years in a school district that began with a "V," so you can imagine how long I had to wait for the list of school closings to be read before I could hear the news I was anxious for. And you could only hear it on the radio. And if you missed the list, or your school wasn't mentioned, you'd have an tortuous fifteen or twenty minute wait — perhaps longer! — to hear it again. But I still remember the excitement of waiting and hoping, and the singular pleasure of the wish granted.
My son will share that excitement, but without quite so many anxious moments — these days, you can get that information almost immediately. (That, and our school district is just about in the middle of the alphabet.)
I don't remember the school district I grew up in as being quite so cautious about inclement weather. Back in the day, the schools would close because there was snow on the ground — never because of the threat of snow. And it took more, much more than the pale dusting that has become enough to throw school districts into a panic. (What a glorious time to be an Elementary School student!)
I lived for many years in a school district that began with a "V," so you can imagine how long I had to wait for the list of school closings to be read before I could hear the news I was anxious for. And you could only hear it on the radio. And if you missed the list, or your school wasn't mentioned, you'd have an tortuous fifteen or twenty minute wait — perhaps longer! — to hear it again. But I still remember the excitement of waiting and hoping, and the singular pleasure of the wish granted.
My son will share that excitement, but without quite so many anxious moments — these days, you can get that information almost immediately. (That, and our school district is just about in the middle of the alphabet.)
18 December 2008
Detour
This is how much I need to update my business web site — I've just now discovered that my Barnes & Noble Affiliate Links, which are supposed to direct consumers to the product listings for my books on Barnes & Noble's web site (and pay me a very small percentage of any sales that result), is instead sending people to a merchant in (I think) The Netherlands!
One more something for the To Do List.
One more something for the To Do List.
17 December 2008
Cacophony
There has been considerable agitation among the crows outside my window. I've just seen a Red-tailed Hawk take flight from a tree in my back yard — I knew when I saw the distinctive tail — with perhaps a half-dozen crows in pursuit!
Boring
Do not read this post while driving, operating heavy machinery, or taking medication that may cause drowsiness.
I can, I will admit, be a bit compulsive about backing up my files. Particularly my working files, that represent a significant investment of time and effort, but there are letters, and photos, and memories I'd be loathe to lose. (And you'll never know when something will prove unexpectedly vital.)
I have an older computer — a dual-processor Power Mac G4 that, once upon a time (six years ago), was the most powerful Mac one could buy (for $2999!) — that now sits on a shelf in my garage, having been put to use as a rudimentary file server. (It has a fan that is mostly quiet, but always on, so I put it where the noise wouldn't be a distraction.) It serves silently — at least, I don't hear it — as additional storage and a destination for files to be regularly backed up to.
It worked, but it was s-l-o-w. I'm not sure if that was the age of the computer, or sending so much data over the wireless network, but I hoped it might work better if I connected the G4 to my wireless router with an Ethernet cable. But to do that, I'd either have to move the G4 upstairs, find a way to run a cable up through the garage (a completely ridiculous idea I considered longer than any reasonable person should) or move the router and the cable modem into the garage.
So I moved everything into the garage. It was largely on a whim, a sort of "I wonder if that would work?" moment on a Monday afternoon.
The end result? Everything is better. Backing up files is now significantly faster, so much so that it frequently happens without my even being aware of it. And my Internet connection seems much faster, as well, now that the cable modem has been moved one splitter and perhaps a hundred feet closer to the source. This morning, I put up a small shelf to position the wireless router just so, to ensure the best coverage for the entire house. Tomorrow, I'll install another 500 GB hard drive for additional storage.
(I told you this would be boring.)
I can, I will admit, be a bit compulsive about backing up my files. Particularly my working files, that represent a significant investment of time and effort, but there are letters, and photos, and memories I'd be loathe to lose. (And you'll never know when something will prove unexpectedly vital.)
I have an older computer — a dual-processor Power Mac G4 that, once upon a time (six years ago), was the most powerful Mac one could buy (for $2999!) — that now sits on a shelf in my garage, having been put to use as a rudimentary file server. (It has a fan that is mostly quiet, but always on, so I put it where the noise wouldn't be a distraction.) It serves silently — at least, I don't hear it — as additional storage and a destination for files to be regularly backed up to.
It worked, but it was s-l-o-w. I'm not sure if that was the age of the computer, or sending so much data over the wireless network, but I hoped it might work better if I connected the G4 to my wireless router with an Ethernet cable. But to do that, I'd either have to move the G4 upstairs, find a way to run a cable up through the garage (a completely ridiculous idea I considered longer than any reasonable person should) or move the router and the cable modem into the garage.
So I moved everything into the garage. It was largely on a whim, a sort of "I wonder if that would work?" moment on a Monday afternoon.
The end result? Everything is better. Backing up files is now significantly faster, so much so that it frequently happens without my even being aware of it. And my Internet connection seems much faster, as well, now that the cable modem has been moved one splitter and perhaps a hundred feet closer to the source. This morning, I put up a small shelf to position the wireless router just so, to ensure the best coverage for the entire house. Tomorrow, I'll install another 500 GB hard drive for additional storage.
(I told you this would be boring.)
15 December 2008
Tinkertoys
My son and I built this yesterday — he has a cold, and hasn't been himself, and instead of his usual self-driven endeavors, he wanted me to build something with him. (Or for him.) So we sat together and watched old cartoons, while I let my mind wander among the brightly colored plastic. (Ordinarily, I might have preferred the wooden Tinkertoys, but I was afraid they'd expand with the humidity and begin to splinter.)You can't really tell just by looking at it, but each of those blue wheels is a moving gear that turns another, and another, and another — there are thirteen in all. (He insisted we use every last blue wheel we could find.)
I don't think I would ever have thought to build a system of gears using Tinkertoys — this was an idea my son had discovered completely on his own. (I was only borrowing it.) It was more by chance than by design, to be sure, and it was nothing quite so elaborate as this, but it was impressive just the same. He is learning to let the process of creation carry him along unexpected paths, to peer around unfamiliar corners.
14 December 2008
Think Twice
I would have mentioned this months ago, but I've just noticed the note left forgotten on my desktop. I can't imagine ever having reason to use this, not really, but if you're a GMail user, you can now enable a feature called Mail Goggles that's intended to make sure you really do want to send that e-mail message you've just written...
Always good to think twice, if answering a few reasonably simple math problems will distract you long enough to do so.
(Yeah, okay. I suppose there might have been one or two occasions where this would have been useful.)
Always good to think twice, if answering a few reasonably simple math problems will distract you long enough to do so.(Yeah, okay. I suppose there might have been one or two occasions where this would have been useful.)
13 December 2008
Upon Further Consideration
I have gone thoroughly and completely overboard this year, far exceeding whatever limit I might have imagined for Christmas gifts for my son. Which is ironic, really — not only because budgets are precariously balanced here these days (if at all), but because I've been trying to convince my wife (as I try most every year) that my son might benefit from fewer, more carefully chosen gifts.
Each year, she'll suggest a dozen different items, a list that will be narrowed down after some discussion — and yet, somehow it becomes even larger! Christmas morning seems to wash over my son like a wave, with gifts opened in furious bursts of torn wrapping paper, fleeting attention (if it fails to catch his interest), and a leap toward the next gift-wrapped object he can find (even if it wasn't meant for him).
We're not particularly observant, but it's important to me that he come to know Christmas as something more than simply a gift-giving (or in his case, gift receiving) holiday.
Yet these gifts seemed just so perfect — so very right! — they just wouldn't wait. My gift is being able to give them.
Last year wasn't like this. I doubt next year will be, either. You only get to be a six-year-old on Christmas morning once.
Each year, she'll suggest a dozen different items, a list that will be narrowed down after some discussion — and yet, somehow it becomes even larger! Christmas morning seems to wash over my son like a wave, with gifts opened in furious bursts of torn wrapping paper, fleeting attention (if it fails to catch his interest), and a leap toward the next gift-wrapped object he can find (even if it wasn't meant for him).
We're not particularly observant, but it's important to me that he come to know Christmas as something more than simply a gift-giving (or in his case, gift receiving) holiday.
Yet these gifts seemed just so perfect — so very right! — they just wouldn't wait. My gift is being able to give them.
Last year wasn't like this. I doubt next year will be, either. You only get to be a six-year-old on Christmas morning once.
12 December 2008
Mindstorm Mine
The eBay auction I was watching has quickly exceeded $175.00 — with several hours remaining! — which is precariously close to my somewhat vague and ill-defined but still self-imposed limit, that point where I might as well just give in and spend a bit more money to order it somewhere else. I happened to check the price on Amazon.com (to aid in the decision-making process), and I was surprised and delighted to discover that they had dropped the price to just under $200! (That's $50 off the list price, and even a bit better than Amazon's previous discount.) That was good enough for me.(Yesterday, I ordered a white lab coat for my son, just for fun. I'll package that, and any other related items I can find, in a large box, and tell him it's his very own Inventor's Kit.)
Help!
I have accidentally rediscovered Daedalus Books, seller of remaindered books and publisher's overstock. (I wonder why the catalogs stopped coming after so many years?) If I'm not careful, I could easily find myself spending far too much money there — even if most of the books I want are only $4.98, such as this one, which seems to have sold out in the hour-and-a-half since I first looked at it this morning. (That's the thing about ordering from Daedalus Books. You have to think fast.)
10 December 2008
Mindstorm
My six-year-old loves to build, with anything and just about everywhere. I've been trying to find ways channel those constructive impulses in ways that don't involve any household object he can get his hands on (in addition to his toys). Tinkertoys have proven enduringly popular, and surprisingly versatile, but I've been hoping to find something that will encourage him to create on a slightly smaller scale. So this year I had planned on getting him an enormous 700-piece Lego building set.
After two-and-a-half minutes of research this morning, I made a quick trip to the local Toys R Us to see if the item I wanted was in stock. (I tend to avoid retail stores around this time of year, but this was an excuse to get out of the house on a cold and dreary day.) It wasn't, but I soon found myself distracted by something that was — LEGO Mindstorms NXT, a reasonably simple, easy to build-and-program robotics kit. (I was this close — this close! — to buying the last one on the shelf, but then I noticed that faint first digit on the price label, and realized that the price was actually $200 more.)
But the more I've thought about it, the more I'm beginning to see my son build machines, rather than simple structures. He's taken an interest in cause and effect, in making things react and move. He'd enjoy building with Legos, sure, but I'd really like to find something more kinetic.
The Mindstorms kit is far too advanced for him to build successfully by himself (it's recommended for ages 10 and up!), but we could certainly play with it together. I found a book that's designed to be "A Kid-Friendly Guide to Building Animals with the NXT Robotics System," that would offer us several fun projects to build.
(I've found a similar product more suited to his age — Lego's new WeDo Robotics Concept — and while it certainly is more age-appropriate, it seems a bit too simplistic, somehow. And it won't be available 'till the beginning of next year.)
Perhaps this would be too much for many six-year-olds. But I'm thinking of this as a gift that is almost infinitely expandable, in that you can purchase different accessories and modules, and it will become even more fascinating to him as he grows older. (I've found an unopened kit on eBay, which I might be able to pick up at a reasonable discount.)
If you were to ask him the age-old question of what he wants to be when he grows up? He would answer, without a moment's hesitation, "an inventor."
After two-and-a-half minutes of research this morning, I made a quick trip to the local Toys R Us to see if the item I wanted was in stock. (I tend to avoid retail stores around this time of year, but this was an excuse to get out of the house on a cold and dreary day.) It wasn't, but I soon found myself distracted by something that was — LEGO Mindstorms NXT, a reasonably simple, easy to build-and-program robotics kit. (I was this close — this close! — to buying the last one on the shelf, but then I noticed that faint first digit on the price label, and realized that the price was actually $200 more.)
But the more I've thought about it, the more I'm beginning to see my son build machines, rather than simple structures. He's taken an interest in cause and effect, in making things react and move. He'd enjoy building with Legos, sure, but I'd really like to find something more kinetic.The Mindstorms kit is far too advanced for him to build successfully by himself (it's recommended for ages 10 and up!), but we could certainly play with it together. I found a book that's designed to be "A Kid-Friendly Guide to Building Animals with the NXT Robotics System," that would offer us several fun projects to build.
(I've found a similar product more suited to his age — Lego's new WeDo Robotics Concept — and while it certainly is more age-appropriate, it seems a bit too simplistic, somehow. And it won't be available 'till the beginning of next year.)
Perhaps this would be too much for many six-year-olds. But I'm thinking of this as a gift that is almost infinitely expandable, in that you can purchase different accessories and modules, and it will become even more fascinating to him as he grows older. (I've found an unopened kit on eBay, which I might be able to pick up at a reasonable discount.)
If you were to ask him the age-old question of what he wants to be when he grows up? He would answer, without a moment's hesitation, "an inventor."
09 December 2008
Desire
I'm watching A Streetcar Named Desire as I write this, though as much out of a sense of obligation as anything else.
The biggest surprise for me came at the very beginning of the film — there actually is a streetcar named "Desire." I'd always assumed it was just a metaphor (it is, of course), and I had no idea that streetcars in New Orleans could have such colorful names (though most don't — this one was named for Desire Street, the route that it followed).
The biggest surprise for me came at the very beginning of the film — there actually is a streetcar named "Desire." I'd always assumed it was just a metaphor (it is, of course), and I had no idea that streetcars in New Orleans could have such colorful names (though most don't — this one was named for Desire Street, the route that it followed).
08 December 2008
Automaton
I spent some time this afternoon contributing to Amazon's Mechanical Turk service. The idea (so far as I've come with it, at least) is that you complete different types of small tasks — brief transcriptions of audio files, or identification of photos, for example — and are paid a small (very small) premium for your work, if accepted, provided it follows some basic guidelines. I answered a half-dozen different questions — some seem to be a matter of opinion ("What is the best tennis racket brand?"), while others are more a matter of fact ("What is the definition of transmutation?").Some tasks require specific qualifications, others seem open to anyone. My understanding is most of the requests for services come from businesses (who pay a percentage of the price of successfully completed tasks as a fee), though I've seen some instances of people using the service to encourage comments to be posted to their blogs. (I'm not quite that desperate.)
It's an interesting distraction, I suppose, and I enjoy the opportunity to learn something new, albeit trivial. But it's difficult to imagine finding the time to complete enough tasks for it to amount to anything.
(That's an engraving of The Turk, by the way, the infamous mechanical device from which the service takes it's name. Perhaps my goal will be to earn enough to purchase a copy of this book!)
07 December 2008
Facade
An invented life can never be used; it cracks and crumbles under the pressures of life like clay in a season of drought.
James Baldwin
05 December 2008
Eraser
I've just bought a package of Sculpey Amazing Eraser Clay. (I can't speak to it's "amazing" qualities yet, but I'm sure I'll find out soon enough.) I'll make my son something fun for the top of his pencil — I've been thinking of a small rocket, or perhaps one of the planets in the solar system).
The dilemma in a product like this, of course, is that you can put all sorts of time and effort into crafting something detailed and wonderful — but it's ultimately going to be used as an eraser, and worn away, bit by bit! (I doubt I'll have that problem, though — when we're doing homework, my son stubbornly insists on removing whatever is at the top of his pencil and using the small pink eraser, instead.)
The dilemma in a product like this, of course, is that you can put all sorts of time and effort into crafting something detailed and wonderful — but it's ultimately going to be used as an eraser, and worn away, bit by bit! (I doubt I'll have that problem, though — when we're doing homework, my son stubbornly insists on removing whatever is at the top of his pencil and using the small pink eraser, instead.)
Vanished
I wish I could return to the curious dream I had this morning — but it was a life written in disappearing ink, slowly fading just as pages are turned.
03 December 2008
Touchless
I thought the best solution would be to just go to the Apple Store. The closest one is about an hour away, more or less, but it's a pleasant drive, when you know the alternate route. I'd leave as soon as I got my son on the bus in the morning, and I could (hopefully) be there and back before too much of the day was lost.
No sooner had I parked the car when I realized — I had completely forgotten to bring the credit card I wanted to use! I made a quick call to check on the balance of another in my wallet, though, and I was hopeful I had enough to cover an iPod.
It turned out, though, that I didn't — I was off by just over a dollar!
It's now several hours later. I've given in and ordered one from Best Buy. (I have to go and pick it up.) I don't like shopping at Best Buy — the reasons why have been lost to time immemorial, but I've had enough unpleasant experiences there that I'll use them only as a last resort (and even then, only to pick up something ordered online). But they're five minutes away, and the iPod was on sale.
Such is the way the week has been going.
No sooner had I parked the car when I realized — I had completely forgotten to bring the credit card I wanted to use! I made a quick call to check on the balance of another in my wallet, though, and I was hopeful I had enough to cover an iPod.
It turned out, though, that I didn't — I was off by just over a dollar!
It's now several hours later. I've given in and ordered one from Best Buy. (I have to go and pick it up.) I don't like shopping at Best Buy — the reasons why have been lost to time immemorial, but I've had enough unpleasant experiences there that I'll use them only as a last resort (and even then, only to pick up something ordered online). But they're five minutes away, and the iPod was on sale.
Such is the way the week has been going.
02 December 2008
Versions
My brilliant plan to surprise my son with the gift of an iPod Touch hasn't worked out as well as was hoped. I'd been intending to buy a refurbished model from Apple at a discount — but I've suddenly realized that the only refurbished model they offer is the previous version, which does not have a volume control switch and (more importantly) a built-in speaker, both of which I consider to be essential features for a six-year-old.
If only I had known, I would have taken advantage of the sale this past Friday and saved myself — what was it? — all of $20. Oh, well.
If only I had known, I would have taken advantage of the sale this past Friday and saved myself — what was it? — all of $20. Oh, well.
Lost
This has been a day that just seemed to slip from my grasp, and I'm left to wonder where the time has gone. (It's like The Lost Weekend, but without the drinking.)
Persephone
I really do not like having to pay a restocking fee. I resent it. I think what irritates me more is the realization that if I had been paying closer attention, I probably could have avoided a retailer that charges one instead of allowing myself to be lured by the siren song of the lowest price.