Got home just 30 minutes ago.
Took a half day just to recuperate from a long week.
Play/wrestle with my dog. Hmmm, he sounds more aggressive than normal. that’s weird.
Look for my ipod.
It’s not in my bag.
Call wife. “You put it in the big area of your bag. That’s where it was last.”
I don’t know. Can’t find it where it would normally be if I took it out of the bag.
Wife hesitantly suggests, “Maybe you should look around and see if Superchunk got it. If he smelled that leather case…”
Uh oh. I begin frantically pacing the house, looking for it. Through the kitchen, the bedroom, the studio; it’s nowhere!
Oh. There it is.
My dog just ate my fucking iPod. Like I need another $300 expenditure.
The case chewed all to hell, Tried to turn it on, and it gave just a fucked up blank screen. Like a scrambled cable channel.
I blew a gasket. I oh, not so gently instructed my dog to go to his place because i was in the mood for murder.
But, instead of taking ANYTHING out on him, I took both hands, clenched my fists, and brought them down upon my futon with mighty, mighty punches. .Stood up, screamed loudly, and threw my non-functional iPod across the room, where it hit the hardwood floor and balkanized into three separate pieces.
Well, at least it’s BROKE NOW.
And the funny thing is?
It’s not even the worse thing that happened to my life today.