My dear, sweet double A batteries. You've treated me splendidly over these last two months. Oh, how long you lasted! Much longer than many other batteries I've had. What was it about you that prolonged your life? Was it the sub-zero temperatures? Did they add minutes to your time spent in my Walkman? I know my mother used to keep batteries in the freezer. Or maybe it was the refrigerator. I used to make fun of her for it. I'd say, "Mom, what's for dinner? Batteries, again?" She'd say that the cold elongated their lives. What did I know? Perhaps she was right.

Or maybe you just really liked the music I was playing. I noticed you decided to quit your fight right after my favorite Interpol song. It was like you knew! We've listened to a lot together. I hope I didn't bore you with a lack of variety. I tried, but sometimes it was too early in the morning to think clearly and I just listened to what was already in there.

Remember when we almost got hit by that car? What a close one! Or how about that time I was really late for work and we ran down the subway stairs, just making it into the train on time. I know what you would say to that. "Which time? You're always late!" You know me too well, dear batteries. Too well.

I can only hope that these batteries I recently bought from that Mexican man on the train provide me with half of the listening enjoyment you gave me. I also hope you weren't offended when I bought those. I could tell your time was near, and I needed backup, just in case you passed on at the beginning of my commute. I should have known you'd wait until the end.

Goodbye, batteries. I will miss you. Perhaps you will be recycled and come back to me! Or maybe you will come back in a vibrator. In that case, say hello to my mother!

Inappropriate!