My iPod died on Saturday, but it took several days for the coroner to pronounce.
It began by jamming, and not producing sound. The first shop fiddled with it and up came the red x of death. He shook his head sadly, and said I might have some luck with another shop. I tried a specialized Apple shop, and the guy gave me a sad smile as he listened to the off-track whir of the hard drive.
Now I have an iDoorstop as my brother Dan said. Or maybe an iPaperweight.
I don't fault Apple so much -- it fell off the bed, albeit it was a short fall. It's possible in the last 18 months it has banged around and this was the final straw. But it does seem to me that iPods are so ubiquitous there must be many accidents like this and they probably should have a lifespan of more than 18 months.
I love my iPod, and I loved my iPod before this. I never would have guessed it, but I was made for an iPod. When I lived in Paris full-time, I was rarely seen on the street without the earbuds. My own personal soundtrack for life.
My first one, one of the early generations, had some battery issues and while it plays it doesn't hold much of a charge. Paul got me a new one for Christmas in 2007 and I fell in love with him all over again. There was no gift that year that I wanted more. And this one was inscribed, which made it all the more special.
The guy at the store conceded that iPods weren't made to be repaired and the cost to even try would be more than getting a new one -- especially in the U.S.
And if this one weren't sentimental, I'd probably just turn around and buy a Nano on my return -- something within my budget until I decided to go back to the Classic that I have. Either way, I won't make a decision until we get back in September.
Until then I'm just kind of sad about it.