Which expensive battery will die first?

My iPod is now three years old and my cell phone is four. Wow, four? Maybe it's only three. I want to say I bought it the same weekend I worked my first weekend shift at IBM Rational, which would've been September 2005. However this phone wasn't introduced until April of 2006 according to one web site I was reading. Hmmm... maybe they're about the same age.

Neither has a particularly replaceable battery. I know how to spudge open an iPod and in theory I could replace the battery myself. The cell phone has a battery I can pop right out but the model is so out of date that I bet it'd cost more to replace it than it would to get a new phone on a two-year plan. In both cases I've wanted to upgrade, so I would.

The first one to die is of course the first one to be replaced immediately. No, I'm not interested in merging these objects -- I hate the thought of having two of my methods for sanity (calling people to meet up with them and putting on music to tune out the voices in my head) merging into one fragile, taxed object. I beat up my cell phone but I'm a lot more polite with my iPod.

Although the best practices for rechargeable batteries vary by chemical composition, I have used a simple approach. The iPod seems to age when you let it discharge completely, so I tend to get it on the charger the moment it shows red. The phone has a less granular metering display (three bars, two, one, flashing and beeping every twenty minutes for a couple hours to drain it even faster) so I get it on the charger as soon as it reaches one bar. Also, it doesn't matter as much if I'm stranded and my iPod is out of juice but it'd really matter if my cell was dead.

But hey, now I can afford to be amused by this. I know which iPod I want (Classic, which has 160 GB of space) but not which cell phone. I'm not going to leave TMobile since I like having international coverage (GMS), so I need to wade through the pile of quad-band flip or slide phones. Anyone got advice?

"The delicious grace of moving one's hand" -T. Leary

I had caffeinated coffee this afternoon -- half a cup at 2:30, the other half at 4:30. It worked its magic and got me going. It was also pure Sumatra beans, so it had a very good smell and made me miss unadulterated coffee. However I must stay sane, so this was a one-off.

Now I'm listening to trance or ambient or whatever you call the mix on SomaFM's Space Station. I've been listening to and enjoying this genre of music since college but I still couldn't tell you what defines it other than Strong Bad's rules for techno plus actual tonal qualities and a slightly slower beat.

I was banging away at a training lab issue, creating a thing and taking notes about it. Suddenly it felt like my keyboard was a few storeys away from my eyes. My right hand was itching my eyebrow at that moment, so I thought it was on a ledge high above the fray of the keyboard traffic.

I've been experienced, so I'm not unfamiliar with these kinds of spatial disconnects. I know how to come back from one instantly or allow it to roll, how to work with someone dealing with one, what is really happening versus what I'm conceiving of the event.

One part of me said, "oh cool, free trip!"

Another part said, "you gotta be kidding, from caffeine and space music? Couldn't this happen a couple hours from now, when I'm not trying to finish some work. I've been in this office since 8 and now it's 6."

The next part of me said, "hey, don't get all judgmental. Let's just write this experience down, savor it a little and then finish up the real work."

Then I realized how much more in shape my ego is compared to when I was 17. It's not the master of the house -- it's just mediating desires, keeping the id from setting fires while keeping the superego from starting ice ages of guilt.

P.S.: A few minutes after I finished this post, my right hand decided to pretend it was breakdancing on the table. Some part of me liked the feel of the matte finish on the desk and wanted to play with that. It's nice to have a four-year-old moment, so long as no one's watching and you know it's just the harmless side of neurochemical tics.

P.P.S.: I'd better go home. My right hand is way too interested in feeling the textures of things for me to absorb the manual I'm reading.