I am in love.
It is a deeper and more profound sensation than I have ever experienced before. Me and my beloved are together always, each ceaselessly accompanied by the other. I quiver in anticipation of our reunification as I wake in the morning and sigh with satisfaction as we part in the night. It is love, true, honest and devoted.
The heavenly creature upon whom my heart is bestowed is my sisters silver ipod mini. I call it 'Bob' because ipod became too formal, considering the things we have endured together. Bob the 'pod. What happy times we have had together! Like Monday, when I was yawning and blinking blearily at the bus stop pre-dawn (well, practically. 7.30am is illegally early in my book) and he chose that moment to shuffle somewhat gloriously onto Oh My Gosh by Basement Jaxx. You have not REALLY listened to that song until you have heard it on the brink of unconciousness. Or this morning, as I trundled along the road to work and caught site of the Guinness towers, glistening a creamy silver in the frosty morning light (anytime before midday is hugely early for me, okay? And 'frosty' is just me trying to impress you with my wordy, poetic side. Even Ireland isn't frosty in August)- and Bob issues forth Coldplay's Shiver. Which I duly did. I am nothing if not obedient to Chris Martin.
Unfortunately, we are soon to be torn asunder. Sally wants him back. I am distraught. Bob is silently accepting. So brave. Even in face of torment he stands firm. I, on the other hand, have besmirched the purity of our love with thoughts of another. Namely how long it will take me to get together the dough to buy myself a 'pod. I flinch at letting Bob know where my thoughts are leading, though. The little bastard would probably go all bitter on me and play nothing but Mariah Carey or some of the seemingly thousands of Alicia Keyes songs my sister has seen fit to house on her 'pod. Ugh. So have to be careful.
What's most frightening is that you can...never...really...turn... him...off...