I’ve spent the past two weeks back home, enjoying my family and friends, and in just two more days, go back to the isolation of the big city. I haven’t spent a lot of time with a camera in my hands, but did make this image Christmas day. My brother’s lens, with the lights of the chandelier over my dining room table reflected in it.
I would like to announce that my camera has died a spectacular death. But I cannot. Its death was quick and painless, as near as I can tell. One minute, I was shooting, the next – Error 99. But that’s an easy fix! Change lenses! Clean the contacts! Change batteries! Uh, maybe try a new SD card? I don’t know. There’s nothing left. Guys at the repair shop, after verifying that I’d done all of the above (kind of like when you call IT at work. If you haven’t restarted, checked the plugs and cleaned the mouse, don’t bother to call), decided they had to send the camera off to Canon for a Big Repair.
I have now been without a working camera for just over a week (10 days, if anyone’s counting). It’ll be gone for about three more weeks. Commence withdrawal symptoms.