Sonic Sex on a Sweat Towel?

Something lurid goes on between the cord of my iPod Shuffle and the wires to my earphones after I throw them into my backpack.

There, in the dark, they co-habit for two or three days, the interval between my using them to liven up my treadmill stints.

I’m convinced a three-day orgy takes place right on top of my sweat towel and next to my water bottle.

How do I know this?

When I dip into the bag to extract them, they are hopelessly intertwined.

Okay, so I don’t exactly wind the cord around the iPod and I don’t coil the earphone wires. But then again, I do not jumble them up. And I definitely don’t tell them to be fruitful and multiply. (Steve Jobs has that covered.)

Nor could my own actions explain their tangled relationship. I leave the backpack to sit inert in our closet between workout days.

It must be something inside the bag making this happen. I’m thinking perhaps suggestive music in the iPod is inaudibly leaking out causing some kind of unrestrained conjoining. Any number of tunes in my iPod might be the culprit.

Or there could be some strange electrical discharge that draws them together. Science certainly has an explanation. Or maybe one of those “new creatives” knows the answer. I mean, they invented this thing.

I’ve thought of lecturing the devices on abstinence, or simply segregating them. You, earphones, you get the main part of the pack. You, Shuffle, stay put in the outside pocket.

But, call me permissive, it seems like a bother.

I suppose I’ll just let them play around, trusting that they are taking necessary precautions. Whatever those might be I’m sure Steve Jobs has taken care of them too. If he hasn’t, the worst that could happen is that one day I’ll open the backpack to find a nest of little miniaturized Shuffles, kind of like the ones Jobs now sells for $79 each.