It was a Sunday afternoon in the spring of 2010. Me and iPod had had a brief but life changing relationship in the few weeks that we had been together. We met just the day before Christmas, she was polished and well dressed in a sleek black case. Stunning was the word I would use to describe her. Instantly I was hooked.
I didn't do much work the day I met her. I was too busy gliding my hands over her silky body that seemed to understand and every touch I gave her was a command to do something. For those first few glorious weeks, we were inseparable. She came with me to work, was glued to my side doing housework, walks to the shop hand in hand, and when it came time to get some beauty sleep, there she was, recharging her batteries beside me as I recharged mine. It was true love. I brought her home at Christmas to meet the family. Of course she charmed them all, what with her touch screen capabilities and instantaneous music powers, she had us all charmed and under her spell in no time. The whole plane journey home we reminisced about our holiday, the ups and the downs of the festive period. I was proud to have her on my arm, with the stolen glances she got from passers by. She was mine! I had even been given the wonderful present of a docking station for her, which took pride of place in my room. Instead of her being wedged into my back pocket while I pottered around the room, she was there on display for all to see and hear.
But then, on the night of 21st February 2010, disaster struck. What had started with a mild splutter of a few of my precious tracks missing from my music collection, quickly developed into an almost coma state, of one album remaining. She was slipping away from me before my very eyes, and I was powerless to do anything. Nothing worked. I charged her constantly, spoke loving words to her. Went through the five stages of grief even.
Denial: that some things were missing, and that by the end of the day, most of my music was gone. It wasn't happening. Not to me. Not to us.
Anger: At the fact that it was happening, how could she do this to me? We were so happy!! Why did it have to happen now!
Bargaining: That I would happily take her to the shop, get her fixed and vowed to get a sleek pleather case with a clear screen so I could still touch her. I would eat my veggies, go to mass, pray, be nicer...
Depression: I fell deeper into a cycle of depression that all hope was lost, that I was never going to meet something like her again, that nothing could compare to the way I had been feeling. That life would never be the same.
Acceptance: That these things happen. That people had told me it had happened to them and that they were eventually OK, that things got better.
I was at my wits end. Was hoping for one more day with her, just one more chance to retrieve the data I had lost. It was a long shot, but in a burst of inspiration, I had an idea. My light bulb lit up. I had, somewhere, my music collection burned onto Cd's to enjoy, so I had to find them, borrow a laptop, connect it all up, and hope for the best. The equivalent of iPod life-support.
And then it happened....she began to Sync up. My music, my data, my life with iPod flashed before my eyes on the screen in front of me. She was coming back to life. She was going to be OK. Whoops and hollers and tears of joy and high-fives of even greater joy were shared in place of the commiserations of my sister.
We were going to be OK...
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