Do you know what a Luddite is? I didn’t. I assumed it’s how you ordered a Bud Light when you’ve had too many. Since I’ve been called one often enough, I thought I’d better find out the meaning of the word.

The original meaning for a Luddite was a 19th-century textile worker who protested the introduction of power looms that would put them out of a job. Many think the term comes from Ned Ludd, who beat the crap out of a couple of knitting machines in 1779.

I can well appreciate his frustration. I went all Luddite on a fax machine not too long ago. We see this phenomenon today with the robot replacing the auto worker or the Roomba replacing people who sweep floors (except in my case where the floors just never got swept until I got a Roomba).

I would consider myself Luddite-lite. I am not opposed to new technology. In fact, I have invented some pretty amazing gizmos. Like in college when I bought a teeny, tiny backpack at an Army/Navy surplus store and put my 7-pound cassette recorder inside. Then I attached some crazy dictation headphones that looked like a stethoscope and voila, the first Walkman.

I could ride my bike for almost 45 minutes listening to my favorite tunes before I had to replace the four D-cell batteries. As we all know, the Sony Corporation usurped my idea and changed forever how we listen to music. I have written a strongly worded letter to Sony and expect them to cave in to my demands any day.

While I am reticent to charge into the newest technology — I am still using a rotary phone until this smartphone fad catches on — I was quick to jump on the Amazon Echo bandwagon. The Echo is about the size and shape of a 1-liter bottle of soda and it works like a talking conduit to the Internet. I simply say the wake-up word, “Alexa,” and have her do my bidding.

“Alexa, what’s the weather today?”

“Alexa, play music from the ’80s.”

“Alexa, tell me a joke.” (What kind of cheese does a castle have? Moatzarella.)

These are nice features, to be sure, but the real reason I glommed onto this item is this: Most of my ideas pop into my head in the middle of the night. I have tried various methods to document those fleeting thoughts before I go back to the arms of Morpheus.

I have used both pen and paper and mini-recorders by the bed, and they have been somewhat useful for capturing notions. For instance, I literally dreamed up a practical use for the human cannon — the thing that shoots human cannonballs. I call it the Commuter Catapult. All I need to do now is find a place to put the net in West Seattle. Then there is my concept of used mattress stores. Simply buy the mattresses gently pre-owed from the prison system, give them a once over with the Roomba and a squirt of Febreeze, then start cashing the checks.

I couldn’t help but think that some of my cerebral gems were being lost. So now, instead of fumbling with buttons on a recorder or trying to decipher my half-awake scribbling, I can say, “Alexa to-do list,” followed by whatever it is I need to remember, like “Drain the cat’s boil.” The next day I can go to any computer, start the Echo app and see, with much dread, that the cat needs a boil drained.

The Echo is a step in the right direction, but the technology is not quite fully baked. Here are some of the things that ended up on my to-do list:

“Austin our teeth needed more fat.” My teeth are fat enough, so I know I didn’t say that.

Another was, “Jessica on wrong type of mountain.” I don’t know a Jessica, but apparently she is not good at picking mountains.

And my favorite was when I wanted to look into getting an ORCA card. I simply said, “ORCA, ferry.” The next day when I looked at my to-do list, it said, “Pork a fairy.” I am sure the NSA got a chuckle out of that one.

So, Mr. Bezos, if you are reading this, put improving the Echo on your to-do list, and if that whole online thing doesn’t work out for you, I have just three words: used mattress store.

— Chris Austin is a writer, VoV radio host and the circulation manager at The Beachcomber.