( I’m letting a guest-writer entertain you all with a fun little tale of karma and Kindles today. Enjoy. -M )
My reading journey has pages from Golden books, library check-outs with plain bindings meant to take abuse, paperbacks ordered from Scholastic books, and those I’ve purchased for my bookshelves. Most books I read today aren’t bound but downloaded. These electronic wonders travel at light speed to my Kindle reading device that holds a vast library of freebies, books purchased with birthday gift cards, and ones I borrow for three weeks. It is just the thing to take on airplane or train travel, waiting in clinics, or simply curled up in the orange recliner for an evening read on a stormy night.
Kindle would be perfect if I wasn’t cursed with bad Kindle Karma.
My first device kept me company on one of my mother-daughter weekends in Denver. Marit loved the Kindle and in a moment of motherly indulgence I gave her mine and bought a second for myself. The second kindle went to Hawaii for my 60th and fell off the counter. Under warranty, it was replaced. The third one developed screen issues, occluding most of the print and reminding me of old televisions with their horizontal-vertical issues. I purchased a fourth Kindle. This one served well until I got it into my head that Harold would really like one of these for himself so I second-hand-me-downed it so I could get the latest version. Last Christmas this Kindle (wait, I’ve lost count) went AWOL on a Seattle trip. Its blue case matched my blue bag and I figured it slipped out of its pocket in the infusion room, on one of Metro’s buses, perhaps on the ferry or on the 90 Kitsap Transit bus. I called. I called again a few days later.
I needed to buy yet another Kindle.
By now I am kicking myself for not owning Amazon stock because certainly there are others just like me. On the plus side, each Kindle I purchase is a newer generation with features that spoil me just to keep me addicted.
This summer’s Fam-Fest, as we cleaned the house for the onslaught of kids (with their Kindles, by the way), I put my Kindle in a very safe place. Which means I couldn’t find it. “Harold, will you look in the orange chair please?” which was quite a feat of turning it on its side and manipulating levers and such to explore the deep recesses within. The chair had been known to snack on Kindles before. Sure enough, there was a Kindle…but it was my blue-cased Kindle that I had lost at Christmas! The kids were there to witness this miracle so you know it’s true.
But what about my current Kindle that was lost? I knew the last place I had it was in the house, so trying one more time, I reached down between the arm and cushion of the orange chair and retrieved the wily rascal. I was very happy to be reunited with my Kindle and send the blue errant one home with Eric, the only kid without a Kindle or an I-pad, to enjoy his New Yorker on the go.
He has a yellow chair like my notorious orange one in his living room. He has been warned.