I am weak. I bought an iPod.
As with any sinner, my excuses were solid justifications, legitimate reasons for my deviant behavior. “I have a lot of CDs,” I told myself. “They take up too much space in Tokyo,” I said to the mirror.
And the best one? “I can use it as a portable hard drive for my photos when I travel next year.” I should get that engraved on the back on the iPod, where others have etched such homilies as, “To Boopsie, For Your Birthday, Love Cuddlebug,” and other such saccharine pap.
Gosh, I feel so trendy.