Friday, April 22, 2011
Yesterday I bought a walkman. Yes, that's right, a personal AM/FM Radio/Cassette player, complete with belt clip. It took going to half a dozen stores to find one in stock (most of the employees looked at us like we were crazy when we asked for a cassette player). I felt deliciously rebellious as the 18-year-old cashier looked at it curiously, then me, shrugged, and rang it up. I'm not sure he knew what it was. :)

See, I'm an avid book-on-tape listener. (Showing my age there...yes, they are still books-on-tape to me, even if they are e-downloads. "Audiobooks" just sounds pretentious.) I groove around town on work-errands while someone reads me stories. And I like to knit while listening as well. But not all the books I want to listen to are available on disc or to download to my ipod. My last car still had a tape player, but the new one, alas, was built this century and scoffs at cassette as if it were an olde tyme wringer washer. So I've now got the walkman and an input cable, and I'm all set to go with my next book. But there's a part of me that wants to don leg-warmers and a belted leotard (gotta have a belt to clip the walkman on!) and jazzercize around the house. Don't look at me like I'm crazy...


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