Anatomy of a Nook

I've been resisting the urge to buy an ebook for a  year. I just couldn't bring myself to "go there," what with the whole idea of reading text without a binded cover and all. I felt the electronic book concept somehow presented a moral dilemma. "What about good old-fashioned paper?" I asked, to nobody there. "What about the feeling of pages in hand, or the majestic smell of a new novel?" Or in my case, the odor of mixed germs and bacteria from a well-handled library book.

But six months ago I wandered into Barnes & Noble, and my world turned all zig-zaggedy. Right there by the front entrance stood the ebook display, and it only took me a minute to get sucked into the electronic vortex of the Nook. I spent the next thirty minutes discussing the virtues of ebooks, the plethora of fine reading at the tip of my fingers, and the convenience of multifunctionality. But I walked out of the store empty-handed, because there was a tiny voice under my eyelids begging me not to give in. Wouldn't I somehow be contributing to the collapse of world peace and harmony if I succumbed to ebook temptation?

But yesterday I received a splendid, crisp and sleek Nook as a gift, which I've named Nookie (after Jersey Shore's Snookie .... get your head out of the gutter). I'm salivating at the chance to download my first book, however I now can't decide what it should be. I feel obligated to somehow pay homage to the classics for my obvious betrayal. Perhaps Shakespeare or Jane Austin? Maybe I'll stick to a classic tale of crime and punishment. Maybe that's what I deserve.

Either way, I'm happy with my Nookie. I'm excited to see what the future holds, and so far, my world has not yet come to an end. Now, how do you turn this thing on again?