Monday, March 2, 2015

Kindle Drama

Ha-HA! You thought this was a post about the now-mostly-over-but-maybe-not Amazon/Hachette feud!  Perhaps you thought I was going to rant and rave about Amazon's takeover of my hometown with their Lichtenstein-sized warehouse!  Or perhaps you wanted me to tell you that Jeff Bezos is evil.

Actually, I don't have much to say about any of those things.  I feel most strongly about the Amazon/Hachette thing because it affects authors, who really deserve to be paid more.  However, I also feel that monopolies tend to sort themselves out.  Either they'll go the way of the Dutch East India Company, or we'll end up working for them √† la the Goliath Corporation in Jasper Fforde's Thursday Next books.

No.  This is about my sad history of Kindles.  About three years ago, I was headed off to the gym.  Because I dislike remembering I'm at the gym while I'm there, I usually bring a book to read.  In this case, I grabbed my Kindle, which is ensconced in a pinkish case with some retro Pride and Prejudice cover art on it, went to my car, and drove to my gym.  When I got there, I couldn't find my Kindle.  Being a forgetful sort of person, I figured that I had just left it on my bed at home and proceeded to workout.  Upon returning to my house, I decided to back in the driveway because it had snowed.  This is important because it's much easier to punch your way out of a driveway in the snow going forward than it is going backward.

Words of wisdom from Wisconsin.  You're welcome.

Anyway, I gunned it, popped over the driveway skirt, hit the brakes, and pulled my handbrake (I drive a manual).  As I gathered my things, I noticed a funny pinkish thing under my front tire.

Yes.  It was my Kindle.  I had evidently dropped it on my way to the car, left it lying there in the snowy driveway while I was at the gym, and rolled over it at a good 20mph.  I left a lovely tire track mark across the back of the case.  The entire top portion of the screen simply didn't work.  On the off chance that there was some obscure clause in my Kindle purchasing agreement, I called Amazon and told the guy what happened.  He basically said that most normal people don't drive over their Kindles but all my books would transfer if I bought a new one.  So I did.  A nice, cheap, clicky-on-the-sides El Cheapo Kindle.

And now I believe I've lost it.  I cleaned my whole apartment this weekend looking for it.  I scanned my desk at work.  I need to thoroughly go through my car (which resembles a roller skate, or so I am told) to make sure it didn't slide under the seat.  But dangit.  I liked my El Cheapo Kindle.  I liked my case with the memorial tire tread on the back.

I suppose I should be happy that Kindles are on sale this week.  But this was seriously the gourmet cherry on top of an utterly loathsome day.

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