I’m in the mood for a good saga. Please join me.

So. I am very passionate about music. I like the music that I like, and I hate the music that I hate. It sounds tautological, yes, but that’s the truth, plain and simple.

For the past month, I have had a brand new iPhone™ all to myself, but I have only had three albums on it for my listening pleasure. To me, that is a crime worse than murder {well, maybe not murder, but certainly it is a crime worse than shoplifting or plagiarism}. See, here’s what happened…

Several years ago, before Poor Kyle was my husband (back when he was just Kyle and had no idea what the eff he was about to get himself into), he bought me an iPod™.

This iPod™.

It was a time when iPods™ were more expensive than they are now, and we weren’t even engaged yet—the gift was extremely generous, and I thought about turning it down, but that only lasted about a half a second.  Who was I to refuse an iPod™ that someone wanted to give me? Plus, I was way poor, and could have never bought one on my own accord.  {Come to think of it, that iPod™ is probably the sole reason I married Poor Kyle—I owed him bigtime. Sugar daddy anyone? [I jest, I jest. Poor Kyle’s not rich enough to be a sugar daddy.  I also married him for his diesel Jetta, which has since been sold. I so should have moved to Beverly Hills.]}

Anyway…

I was the last of my friends to get one, but I finally had an iPod™. I was delighted. I spent hours transferring my CDs to iTunes, and even more hours just stroking the smooth smooth smoothness that was my new iPod™. It was a really great gift.

A year or so later, when I got a laptop (another extremely generous gift, this time from my parents {hollah, Mom and Dad!}), I transferred my entire iTunes™ library to the laptop, which immediately slowed…down…every…single…action I needed it to perform. Having so many songs on my poor lappy was really a struggle for it.

I didn’t know what to do: I wanted my laptop to do its best, but I also wanted all my music on it in case anything happened to my iPod™. Years of collecting amazing albums…it would have been a shame to lose all that hard work.

A few months later, Poor Kyle, having seen my predicament, bought me a portable hard drive.

This portable hard drive.

(This really is starting to sound like a whore/pimp situation, isn’t it? Oy.)

He encouraged me to put the hard drive to use, transfer my music over to it, and set my laptop free from its electronic burdens. I didn’t want to; I didn’t trust this newfangled hard drive; I just knew it was going to be bad.

But Kyle (again, before he was Poor Kyle) held my hand, wiped my tears, and clicked “Transfer All.” And then he clicked “Delete.”  The deed was done. My computer ran so much better. All was well…

…until the hard drive mysteriously erased all my music. (Poor Kyle maintains, to this day, that I was too rough with the hard drive, and that it was all my fault. I maintain that a $200 piece of plastic ought to hold up against a few *minor* falls and drops. But I digress.)

I was devastated, but at least I still had all my music on my iPod™.

All was still well.

Fast forward three years.

December 2009: Poor Kyle (yes, my husband now, and therefore officially deserving of the title “Poor Kyle”) surprised me with an iPhone™ a week before Christmas. SQUEE!

This iPhone™.

(By the way, the term “Sugar Daddy” no longer applies because we’re married now. Totally legit. Any favours he may or may not receive in return for gifts he does or does not purchase are totally sanctioned by the law. Or something.) (And besides, the very day after giving me an iPhone™, he went out and bought one for himself, so really, it wasn’t a gift so much as a way to get himself an iPhone™ without argument from me.  [Which, really, is pretty much the cleverest thing ever. Props to PK.])

But remember if you can (and I doubt you can—who could? Anyone still with me is probably only here because his or her brain has atrophied from the boredom of this story, and therefore cannot physically tell his or her body to get up and walk away from the computer. So sorry, everyone.), that I had no music in my iTunes™ library. It was all gone, and the only way I could access it would be by illegally ripping it off my iPod™.

This iPod™.

Which I tried to do with Ollie’s iPod™ extractor, but that was all buggered up and didn’t work, and anyway, my laptop seriously did not have the space for 16+ gigs of music.

So Poor Kyle (my brilliant brilliant non-sugar-daddy husband) rigged up a solution, and it took over an hour, but it totally worked, and now this:

equals this:

and this:

equals this:

which equals this:

and you all equal=DEAD OF BOREDOM.

But seriously, as I sat and watched all my albums transfer over to my iPhone™, it was like welcoming old friends back from the dead. I was all, “Oh my gosh, Wicked Soundtrack, so nice to see you again!” and “Hey, Relient K, I missed you guys,” and “WTF, Enya! You’re still HERE?”

It was like a ten year high school reunion, but without the cheap hors d’oeuvres and beeyotch-slapping episodes.

And I owe it all to the love of my life…

Apple™.

Oh. And Poor Kyle, too.  Naturally.

Thank you for joining me on this formulaic journey of the Saga of a Blogga with iPod™ Drama.

Please come back tomorrow for a real post.

If you can ever forgive me for this one, that is.

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