Beginnings of Addiction

I've never been one of those "music people." You know the ones who, if asked "what's the one thing you couldn't live without, if lost in the wilderness," say "my Ipod, my guitar, my music." I've never really understood that sort of thing. Haven't they watched even one episode of Lost? Don't they know that the correct answer to this question is something like "tooth brush, sun screen, John Lock?" Apparently not. Lately though, I've gotten very attached to my mp3 player, and while it's still not at the top of my scary island list, it's slowly climbing the ladder.

I keep catching myself looking for chores to do so that I can listen to it and dance around like an idiot while I wash dishes, change sheets and do laundry. I have long, happy fantasies in which I own one of those plastic things that would let me take it into the shower with me. I harass Justin to download new music for me more frequently than I'd like to admit. (I have no interest in learning to do this myself. Not having to download my own stuff is the reason I got married, at least one of them.) So yeah, I might be turning into one of the Music People. I haven't decided how I feel about that yet, but I'll let you know.

If I start complaining that MTV isn't about the music anymore, take away my batteries.