I am the (sort of) proud owner of a PS5. I mean, technically I (sort of) bought one; now I’m just waiting for Walmart to finalize the sale and send that bad boy my way. Unfortunately, it’s not scheduled to arrive until the middle of April. This has left me in the precarious position of continually checking my Walmart account to verify that the order hasn’t been unceremoniously cancelled. I will not feel at ease until I’ve hooked it up and can hear that start screen for the first time.
We live in uncertain times. This is true in general, but the statement also applies to these newfangled gaming consoles. All too often, we hear the horror stories about someone assuming, rightfully so, that a new console is within their reach, only to have the rug pulled out from under them.
We live in a world where Amazon drivers are swapping PS5 consoles for cat food, where orders are being surreptitiously rescinded or cancelled, where packages are being swiped from doorsteps by nefarious scofflaws and all around ne’er-do-wells.
So you can perhaps see why, even though this should be a period of elation, it has instead twisted into a never-ending grief-fest, where my nights are spent awash in cold sweat as I wait for the other shoe to drop — a doomsday scenario I loathe to have realized when I’m so close to the finish line.
