Monday, July 18, 2011

A Love Letter To My Kindle

Morning Readers,

     Last Friday, when it wasn't my birthday, I received a very thoughtful gift. It thoughtfully stayed in its box on the trip home, and thoughtfully stayed in my bedroom, until I thoughtfully took it out, later that night. Granted, it'd been a busy day, and I hadn't had a whole lot of time to pull off the wrapper and formally introduce myself, but I was also a little nervous. And by "nervous", I mean I was an elitist, a "book snob", a "I only read paper books because, yes, I'm better than you, actually care about literature, have an English degree and, if you're wondering, drive the car with the bumper sticker that reads "Honk if you love Gutenberg.." type of person. But then, I opened Kindle.

My Precious...

     Before now, I could've expounded on all the reasons I hated Kindles. In fact, one of my favorite bloggers, Paul Johnson, over at The Good Greatsby, summed-up many of the reasons I often had to restrain myself from pitching dirty diapers at all the hipsters I'd see "reading" at book stores and coffee shops (read his post here). Today, I write with gratitude in my heart for not smearing poop on others, in defense of the printed word. No, today I'd like to write a letter to my new friend.

A Love Letter To My Kindle 
Dear Kindle,

     How are you? I trust you slept well, last night. I know the nightstand's not that comfortable, but someone wasn't okay with you sleeping in bed with us. You know I don't think you're "creepy", and I promise to do my utmost to change the sleeping arrangements and get you a decent pillow (I may even be able to get you one of the satiny ones Husband and I got for a wedding gift).
     If there's anything I can do to make your stay with us more enjoyable, please let me know. Earlier, I noticed you were displaying a Revlon add. Does this mean you need to go to the bathroom or need new mascara? You and I may have to work out a system of how you just knew I didn't really want to stop reading and accidentally shut you off, last night. Like a true lover friend, you were there, displaying where I'd left-off, right after I finished my oatmeal creme pie and figured out how to switch you back on.
     While we're on the subject of you being so considerate, why is it you always know what I want and can deliver it to me in sixty seconds? Husband's pretty good at picking out gifts, but he usually has to guess, and then drive to the store to get it, or order it online and have it shipped. This takes a lot longer than sixty seconds. Maybe you should talk to him? I could see how you may not be comfortable with that, so let's figure out the sleeping arrangements first.
     While I'm being so open, I might as well tell you I love everything about you - the way you'll hold three-thousand-five-hundred books, just for me, how you haven't asked me to feed, clothe, or change you, once, your soft, glare-free smile. Husband's never even offered to hold three books for me, let alone three thousand. The babies usually eat all my books, but also need too be changed three thousand times a day.
     So here's the thing, Kindle. I think I'm falling for you. I - I think it's gonna work out. Sure, I may need to see a paperback on the side, but I've got high hopes for you and I. I'm aware you've dated hundreds of thousands of other people, but did any of them know you favorite color's black and white?...or that you like being fully-charged on your first use? My only hope is you'll return my love, and keep displaying all the wonderful literature I love. If you do this for me, I promise I won't drop you, or let the babies eat you, by accident.



Until Next Time, Readers!