"And you really shouldn't stack 'em, because it gets really pressured ..."

Welcome to the 20th century. I'll be your guide, Erin.

The first stop is our living room, where you'll notice an unusual object we like to call "the record player."

We got a record player -- well, really it was Dave's parents', and now it's ours, but it works now for the first time since I've known Dave. It's out of the closet. It's been repaired. It's currently spinning Elliott Smith's self-titled album. Like that? Spinning. Gotta know the lingo, man.

If I thought Dave was a snob before ... Ha.

Well, OK, but I am enjoying it, too, to be fair. Bright Eyes, your EP is now mine, in all its vinyl-smelling glory. The only problem is we have to listen to them on my astronaut-sized headphones because we don't have speakers. But all in good time, my friends. All in good time.

I also wrote a column about its effect on me, a 20something who loves her iPod, so look for it at The Northwestern's Web site next Sunday. I'll also link to it (on your left, the link to my latest Sunday column).

But, um, Dad? If you're reading, you've got that whole box of vinyl ... just gettin' dusty.