Sunday, October 12, 2008

Aw, dammit.

Despite sweet talk, tough talk, careful removal and replacement of batteries, using a different kind of battery, looking online at the manual, consultation with an expert (my brother-in-law) and blah blah blah etcetera, my camera steadfastly refused to heal itself. What the hell. This apparently means that now, I have to wrap it up and send it off to some service center where they may charge me as much as my camera is worth to fix it . . . and what's more, in the chaos of my stuff, I can't find any of my documentation for it. Is it under warranty, you ask? Well, who knows?

What do they call this? poetic justice? the chickens come home to roost? bad karma? born under a bad sign?

Feh, I say. I hate when stuff doesn't work.

Time to read my young adult novel by a celebrated author, featuring baseball, ferishers, bridges between worlds, and two kids who are, I'm guessing, gonna help each other out, be heroes and save the world. But who's gonna save my camera?


  1. sorry about your camera
    enjoy your book

  2. what was that blog address you told me about?



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