S. Worthen (owlfish) wrote,
S. Worthen

In which a radio proves itself to be something useful

My weather pixie has given in and covered up both arms and stomach against the cold. The forecast reports it might snow tonight. It's a bit nippy out now. I should have bundled up more when I went outside to close the garage door behind Jenene as she left for a brief trip back to Buffalo.

Today was busy in the boring way, busy with all the usual Monday things which crowd up my Mondays: Latin homework, badminton, Latin class, and the boring half of my work hours. The fax for my business cards came but, contrary to what Jen told me, the entire process will have taken me more like 2 weeks rather than the 3 days she assured me of. They'll be ready for neither conference.

My work hours went much more expeditiously than the last did, largely thanks to this amazing innovation called a 'radio'. Now you may think that listening to a portable radio while doing work makes perfect sense. Perhaps you do it all the time. If you are thinking this, then you evidently don't know me very well. I've never been someone who turned on radios. When I was growing up, my sister and parents did: pop, country, and classical, depending upon who it was. For my first two years of undergraduate schooling, it was my roommate, who played pop and country. It's not that I don't put on music - I do. It's just that I put on tapes and CDs and so forth.

Shortly after arriving in Toronto, my father gave me a radio alarm clock for Christmas. It was a landmark event in my radio-listening life. I used it. I woke up to the radio. The alarm turned it on for me every morning. But I didn't put it on at other times of day. It was useful for playing CDs though, and for routing the computer and tape players sounds through, to use its better speakers. C. moved in, and he played the radio: rock, or pop. We mostly listen to Radio Paradise these days. He puts it on. It goes through his computers and we listen on the stereo speakers.

At some point in the last two years or so, one of my grandmothers (I think) gave me a very very tiny radio. It's tiny enough that it has neither a dial nor a volume control. Switching channels, and turning the thing off and on, uses up the entirety of its interface. That's the little device I remembered to put in my backpack for just such times of mental boredom the other day, and today I was finally glad I had it with me. I listened to the radio for a few hours while I worked, and the work was ever so much more tolerable.

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