We were in Cambridge a few weeks ago, because our favorite record store was celebrating their one-year anniversary and everything was marked down 20%. Vinyl lovers that we are, this was too tempting to pass up!
Imagine my surprise when I actually walked out of there with more CDs than records.
A few years ago, we went on a mad purge and threw away literally hundreds of CDs, a two-decade collections’ worth. Didn’t sell them or donate them, just tossed them in the garbage. We did hang onto a few dozen of our very favorites, but 90% of those compact discs ended up in the Rapid City landfill. Between our large album collection, premium Spotify plan, and evolving music tastes, hanging onto the CDs seemed pointless. They were all packed away in a plastic bin and hadn’t been touched in years anyway. It had been ages since I’d paid for a CD and I assumed I’d never buy one again.
Joke’s on me, I guess.
Here’s the thing: Tara and I both regretted throwing away the CDs almost immediately. Not enough to go wading through piles of moldy banana peels and coffee grounds and dirty diapers and whatever other smelly garbage resides in your local landfill in search of those discarded Collective Soul or Matchbox Twenty or Puddle of Mudd (don’t judge!) gems, but we still wished for a do-over. They didn’t take up that much space in the overall scheme of things, and we underestimated the power of nostalgia.
Considering that those $1 CDs at Strictly Discs were marked down to 80 cents, it’s a shock I only bought 10. I walked out of there with a pile of CDs from The Cure, Electric Light Orchestra, Sheryl Crow, a whole bunch of Enya, and Hootie & The f-in’! Blowfish (no, they did not change their name; the adjective is my addition, purely for emphasis). The latter is one we unceremoniously tossed into the garbage four years ago, which means I’m probably one of only a handful of people on the planet who bought Cracked Rear View twice.
You’re welcome, Darius Rucker.
At least unlike vinyl, which has gotten pretty expensive after exploding in popularity again, CDs are dirt cheap. I won’t, but probably could, rebuild my entire collection for pennies on the dollar if I were so inclined (and still loved Staind and Creed). Newfound appreciation for shiny silver plastic aside, it’s not like I listen to them often. I have one of those combination record/CD players in the basement next to my desk, and 9 times out of 10, I’m still spinning vinyl.
But on that 10th time, if I want to listen to Alice in Chains or P.M. Dawn or Pat Benatar or Goo Goo Dolls without having to get up and flip the album over to side B, I have that option, as cold and antiseptic as it may be.
For 80 cents a pop, that’s a tradeoff I can accept.
One last bright red hurrah
After three days at CheeseGov HQ interviewing candidates for our open comms position (we picked one, yay!), I finally got to work from home again today. It felt like a homecoming.
Which, of course, is exactly what it was…
And because it was a very chilly 28° this morning and my home office is in the basement, I decided to take advantage of our ample supply of wood and light a fire in the wood stove.
What a treat this was! It warmed the basement up to a toasty 74° and I was able to work in comfort. Just a few logs kept it nice and warm for hours. Last winter I relied mostly on a space heater under my desk and multiple layers of clothing…and my fingers still felt like they were on the verge of frostbite. This is way betterer.
And there will be more fires in the near future, ’cause heyyyy, lookit this:
Wasn’t I just saying I was ready for snow?!
(Why, yes. Yes, I was! My manifestation game remains strong.)
Granted, anything that falls isn’t likely to amount to much, but just seeing flakes flying through the air has me all kinds of excited. I was born for this shit, guys. Bring it on.
In the meantime, check out our Japanese maple! It’s really putting on a show now.
I have to hand it to Dick: he was very strategic in his planting. We end up with a virtual assembly line of fall foliage, one tree after another taking its turn in the spotlight for a little while. Every time the colors fade and the leaves drop, a new tree takes center stage with its own vibrant, eye-catching colors. This pattern continues for over a month. Well done, Dick!
Or maybe this was all just a happy accident.
In any case, it makes our yard a real show-stopper this time of year. I’m pretty sure the Japanese maple is our last hurrah, because everything else is bare now, but talk about going out with a bang. I’m pretty sure that one’s my favorite.
Mark My Words 
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