So it's possible I bought my very own self a Kindle for Christmas.
It was basically an accident, no lie. They were crazy cheap (inexpensive? does that sound better?) on Black Friday & I was peer-pressured into it by my daughters with the (ever-present) thinking in the back of my head that because it was a preorder I could (of course!) change my mind before it actually shipped.
Then it shipped early.
And I was left holding the steal-of-a-deal Kindle in my hot little hands.
I think we all know how this turned out. There was no way I was venturing forth to the actual Post Office to deal with this terrible alleged mishap, so there you have it. I am now the proud owner of a device that fits in my hand and will not only hold a little Jim Gaffigan but also Andy Griffith.
I'm just saying, it's a miracle of modern times is all.
However, after dealing with my self-indulgent guilt, I now face a much bigger crisis. I am very afraid I might end up liking this new-fangled contraption, and by new-fangled I mean several years old because I never do brand new because #notajoiner.
Anyway, liking it even at all feels awfully disloyal to my long-abiding, avid love of paper and dog-eared corners and blue-ballpoint-pens on delightful/funny/insightful/dumb strings of words.
Whatever, man. All I know is I just wasted entirely too much time renewing my library card and figuring out how to get free books without ever leaving my sofa, and my concern for my paper-page-loving soul is deepening by the minute...as is my rapidly growing fear that this already-can-stay-inside-for-a-week-at-a-time-and-not-hate-it, self-proclaimed hibernator may never see the light of day or Target again.
#PleaseSendPepsi
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