The staff at the Apple store quickly agreed with my diagnosis of dead, never to be resurrected, and pointed out that I could trade it in on a new one.
I'd be saving the cost of the sales tax, essentially, but I'd be getting one with a fancy display and two cameras and a microphone and blah blah blah: Long story short, it wasn't hard to twist my arm into upgrading. Especially since I spent most of Sunday/Monday exploring my iPod Touch-less options: Lug my iPad everywhere (technically possible, but not always preferable) or get an iPhone (would cut down on the number of gadgets I haul around, but would cost — at a minimum — $30 a month more than what I'm paying now for phone service). (I hardly talk/text at all; I'm still all about the e-mail, because I'm old.)
Anyhow: After demonstrating poor impulse control at the beginning, I did manage to talk myself out of getting this adorably retro Hipsta Case . . .
. . . but not before taking it off the shelf and fondling it for several minutes. Twice.
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