Absent-Minded Professor, Part III

Several months ago, I decided I wanted an iPod, spurring a flurry of consumer research. I visited the Apple store to hold the video iPod and the nano, to see which would fit more comfortably in a hand of my hand's size. I polled nano-owners to see if they wished their iPods could play video, and I asked video-iPod-owners if they used the video function. Adjusting for a set of complex variables, I settled on the nano.

But I wanted more than the small amount of memory that the first generation nanos had. So I periodically searched around for insider news leaks, etc., to see when the new ones were coming and how much memory they would hold. While I waited, I went onto the Apple site to look at the nanos and daydream about what I wanted engraved on the back, trying out different messages like "i belong to tara" the so-creative "tara's iPod."

At long last, the next generation of nanos came out. It was time for me to act! I ordered my nano with not only my email address, but also an offer of a finder's reward engraved on the back. This last addition dissolved Mr. X into a fit of giggles over my utter nerdiness, and as I defended my decision as entirely practical and forward-thinking, it dawned on me: I had ordered the iPod with an email address that didn't actually exist.

I had entered the username from one of my email accounts, and the host from another. Nice. So I had to call my alma mater and ask them to change my "permanent-for-life" alumni email forwarding address. (Permanent, that is, until you do something absent-minded enough that they ought to revoke your degree anyway.) So, when you get an email from me sometime soon with my new permanent email address, you'll know why . . .