This blog’s inactivity is in direct correlation with my own photographic inactivity. I haven’t really taken a picture, film or digital, since February, I think (except with my phone, which typically just consists of happy snaps of the kiddos). This is due in part to general busyness, in part to a lack of inspiration, and now, in part to the stress of finding a home.
Nevertheless, yesterday I decided - as much for therapeutic reasons as any creative impulse - to try putting my new enlarger lens on my enlarger. The lens was dirty, so I decided to get my cleaning cloth out of my camera bag.
My camera bag…right. It’s normally right here. Why is it not right here? The closet? No, not in the closet. Here? No. Here? No.
I go downstairs. I search the cars. The bag is nowhere.
In it is my faithful Nikon FE and its less faithful roommate, the Canon Rebel XSi. And then that feeling hits. The one that says, “You left it somewhere far away from here. It’s history.”
I returned from a business trip at the beginning of March, and have not, as I said, engaged in any photographic pursuits since then. The phone calls began. Relief struck, sort of, when I confirmed with the hotel that they did recover a bag fitting the description of mine from my room on the date I checked out.
So now I wait for the phone call that will say, “Yes, we still have it. We’ll ship it to you,” or, “I’m sorry; we donate all found items after one month.”
To be continued…