bags of rice

I dropped my Ipod in some water and didn't realize it for a bit so it sat there. Like it was taking a bath. Or swimming. When I realized what I'd done I grabbed it, frantic. I ripped off the case and dried it off, a used a blow dryer, paper towels. A friend told me to put it in a bag of rice and do not try to turn it on. I tried to turn it on anyways. Nothing. I put it in the rice and tried to forget about it. I accepted defeat.

A very good friend of mine just learned her husband has been having an affair. As cliche as it is, its not something she ever saw coming. None of us did. Not him. No way. Not like this. Not in a cheap Lifetime movie sort of way. It's ripping apart their family and sadly, those of us who love both of them. Or used to. Its Day Three since she's learned and already so much has changed. People surprise you. They break your heart. They turn into cliches.

I took my Ipod out of the rice today. Expecting nothing, I pressed the keys and it turned on. It plays just fine. Rice. Like the kind we used to throw at weddings before it all became so politically incorrect. All of a sudden I hate the rice that fixed my Ipod. But rice, just like us, is just along for the ride.