D is for duh

Nine months after getting an iPod I noticed that my son's dilapidated boom box has a microphone jack that I've never used. Sure enough, plugging the iPod in there works just fine, much better than the casette adapter. He's even less safe from my musical tastes than he was before.

I often dream that the alarm rang, but this morning's dream was so realistic that I didn't figure it out until my son came into the office to ask me why I was up so early. It was only half an hour lost, so it could have been worse, but I still need to catch up from Saturday night.