Sadness is overtaking me. My camera may be dying. It is at the very least quite ill. I'm hoping that it's just the memory card, but I have my doubts.
Those of you who know me know how much I love my camera. There was a celebration when it finally arrived, and it has rarely left my side since that day. A recent patch of terrible dullness in my life (not rare) has meant that I've been carrying the camera, but not using it very much. This means that I'm not always aware that it's in my bag, and, well, maybe I'm a bit rough when I drop the bag or toss it unceremoniously into the car. At any rate, the occasional memory errors have degenerated into a state of constant error and an inability to sometimes just store, but often even take any pictures. And that, of course, is a camera's reason for being.
I think the camera got used to being the favoured, loved, pampered companion, and is now sulking and rebelling at being ignored and treated poorly. I feel like if only I could buy it some flowers and candy - maybe take it out to some picturesque area and have some fun, show it the sights - that then it would perk right up and start cooperating again, with the understanding that I, too, will straighten up and behave in a more respectful manner. Our fabulous life adventures could then continue, shadowed by the memory of this painful time, but somehow tempered and strengthened by it at the same time.
Right now, I'm going to see if I can't find some guidance, some method of healing this wound, mending this rift. If nothing works, then there will likely be a small ceremony later this week, possibly by the lake. Donations of photo paper gratefully accepted in this time of suffering.