Tragic

I am no photographer. I’m just not. However, I like documenting certain things in my life, for our family, and also for this journal. Hence, a digital camera is particularly useful. You know… Birthday cakes as well as that strange man running down the street in the leopard underwear.

Alas, at Joseph’s last baseball game, I managed to kick over my soda straight into my bag. Straight into a pocket in said bag. The said bag is made of something waterproof, and I therefore made a lake of soda in that one pocket. The one holding both my digital camera, as well as Poe’s cell phone.

The phone is dead as a doornail dead. His account was up for an upgrade, though, and we replaced it with a minor fee.

The camera, my friends, is also dead. I have no idea when I’ll have the funds to replace it, considering our current situation. And to add insult to injury, I’ve misplaced our Flip. I know it’s here somewhere. With movies from our beach trip. Somewhere safe. Where I couldn’t possibly forget it’s location.

We just had one birthday. I’m afraid to check the Pepsi-soaked memory card. And another birthday looming Friday and no way to commemorate it.

I’m annoyed. And it’s my own fault. I’m the one who kicked the soda.