RIP

Canon Powershot SD 450 – May 7^th, , 2006 – June 16^th , 2006

There lies my camera…in the hands of some…one.  Parisian, Arab, Caucasian, Italian, Swiss…someone now has a great camera.  ::I knew I should’ve bought that belt when I saw it::  My trip to the bathroom, literally under the Eiffel Tower, resulted in a broken belt, which resulted in my camera getting thoughtlessly put on the TP dispenser, which inevitably ended with me forgetting it and not realizing it until 20 minutes later, only to go back and discover its disappearance.  $450 down the tube…oh well.  I’m pissed off at myself…so mad I want to just stand on an ant hill, stub my toe on the end of something really sharp, or even ram my head through a TV…but what good will that do?  It’s gone, it’s not coming back.  The worst part is how much money it cost.  Great friends are letting me borrow their cameras until Oxford, where the mother’s camera will hopefully be awaiting my arrival. 

As if aftshadowing (late irony?) my luck, I’m in room #13 at the hotel in Brugges.  I’m not laughing.  My idiocy has caused me to leave France on a sour note, but the tart fog is quickly lifting and allowing me to remember that extraordinary place.  I thought my parents would be mad, they weren’t.  I thought I would not have any more recollection of my trip, but I will (what else am I going to use my brain for?).