I’m a habitual loser of the damn things. Don’t, under any circumstances, loan me one, no matter how hard I beg or how earnestly I promise, I’m not to be trusted. I’ll either lose it or send it through the wash, which is essentially the same thing — they’re completely useless after the rinse cycle. Sometimes it takes days to discover they’re even missing and, by then, who can retrace footsteps? Not me.
I love thumb drives, I do. Those giant memories store beaucoup data, upload and download to beat the band, no batteries required; it’s like having a librarian on your key ring. What I don’t love is the Houdini act. I swear to God flash drives are worse than socks the way they disappear, never to be seen again. Where do they go and what lures them away?
Someone needs to invent clips or leashes — you know, like they have for mittens. That way, they’d be attached to a sleeve or suspended from a neck. Think of the money we’d save if we weren’t always replacing thumb drives. Plus, we could quit worrying about our data falling into the wrong hands, since it would be securely fastened to us.
But, in the meantime, I’m more likely to find Jimmy Hoffa.
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