I killed my Kobo Reader

I’m on my couch, a bit over three quarters of the way through Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl, and my cat decides to use the litter box, which is sufficiently within earshot that I get to hear everything. Including her protracted attempts to tidy up. The sound is a bit like beatnik poetry, if by “beatnik poetry” I mean water torture:

scratch

scratchscratch

SCRATCHSCRATCH

scratch

SCRATCHSCRATCHscratchSCRATCHSCRATCHSCRATCHSCRATCHscratchSCRATCHSCRATCHSCRATCH

Shut. Up. Molly.

I tried to put up with it, hoping that eventually she would be satisfied. However, my cat is an extremely dim cat and the torture continued. I have had some success in the past clapping my hands loudly but my hands were holding my Kobo Reader and apparently it was just too much work for me to put it down before clapping loudly and so I REPEATEDLY WHACKED MY KOBO READER ON THE BACK OF THE COUCH as an equivalent.

Which did nothing to stop Molly but everything to stop the ereader.

Fortunately I was able to finish the (awesome) book on my iPhone and I also have an iPad but they both have radiant screens (and the iPad is heavy) and I prefer the etch-a-sketch-esque comfort of e-ink. And fortunately the Kobo Reader was a two-year old gift from my last job so strictly speaking I wasn’t out any money. But oh am I mourning it. Poor thing. Stupid cat.

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