Broken Hearted Melody

In the living room sits a CD player - Radio. A fine product, made by Sony, in a designer style with a faux birdseye-maple finish, a remote control and a variety of features, most of which are never used. You see, the infernal gizmo is a music critic. Whenever I wish to relax with a fine quality music CD, I put on my smoking jacket, my slippers and grab my (bubble) pipe, and pop in a disc. All's well, the room pulsates with beautiful music (MegaBass™), and as those bubbles float to the ceiling they pop- and my cares with them.

And then, with notice or pattern, the CD players turns the music off. It happened once in a while at first, then more often, and now I'm lucky to get 10 minutes of music. It must not appreciate my taste. I'm thinking about getting a new one. With my luck, it will be as fickle as the Sony, and my heart, like those bubbles, will be broken again. Appliance romance- doomed from the start? Next time I'll get a Samsung.