On Sundays in my apartment, the coffee table where the Air sat becomes the final resting place for the bulky New York Times. It is not unusual for other magazines, and newspapers from previous days, to accumulate there as well. My wife, whose clutter tolerance is well below my own, sometimes will swoop in and hastily gather the pulp in a huge stack, going directly to the trash-compactor room just down the hall from our apartment, dumping the pile into a plastic recycling bin.
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As humiliating as it sounds, let me repeat: the MacBook Air is so thin that it got tossed out with the newspapers.
Yikes. For the record, my girlfriend has a MacBook Air, and I can totally see something like this happening...
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