Pandora

When I first heard about Pandora internet radio, I thought, "What a dumb marketing decision! Don't they know the story of Pandora? All that bad stuff set free in the world?"

Now I consider it fair warning. Not that Pandora is releasing anything bad in my house, but it has quickly made me an addict. I'm already thinking about a recovery strategy, with affirmations like, "Mary, it doesn't go away. You can always come back to it."

Because I need to go to the hardware store. My wonderful vintage-y medicine cabinet that I was so pleased to get for a fourth the price of the ones at Restoration Hardware? The latch tore apart yesterday.

Fortunately, I can hear my Pandora from the bathroom, so I got right on the job of unscrewing the six screws of the latch. Then, darn, one dropped to the floor. It has disappeared, which is pretty strange in a bathroom that's probably less than 5'x7'. Fortunately, as I said, I can hear my Pandora in the bathroom. I think it's worth it to spend several hours looking for the missing screw if necessary, don't you?

What I did was, I tried out James Taylor radio this morning, so I've been hearing him and Jackson Browne and the Eagles and the Hawaiian guy who sings Over the Rainbow from (faulty) memory but it doesn't matter, Jason Mraz (whoever that is), and Sting. I'm loving it.

Oh. Van Morrison now. Maybe I'll blog more in the coming weeks, since it appears that I can do this and listen too.