2,933 songs. Several playlists. A couple photos I just learned how to load. It had it all.

My bike rides to school and work will never be quite the same. My hours in the library are to become less mobile as I look forward to being anchored to my laptop by an earphone cord-leash. There will be no more sweet lullabyes to sleep in my empty bed. My intermittent BART and AC Transit rides will be starkly silent.

My ipod died. Wait, let me correct that.

I killed my ipod. I massacred it. I placed it on a stairwell ledge in haste as I took off my sweatshirt. A ledge that looked quite wide, but was not, it turned out. Plunging, in slow molasses motion, 14 or so feet straight down, to meet unforgiving linoleum. The fall ruptured critical cleavages between the unit's manufactured factory sealed edges. The rubber protective sheath that had protected it from more minor falls before had little comfort to offer my plastic-metal cartridge of musical wonder.

The music has ended. Quite certainly the saddest music in the world today.