My baby is broken. No, not THAT baby. My other baby. My camera. My preciousssssssss.
A heavy, lead crystal vase fell off the top of the refrigerator, bounced on the counter and then hit the floor. It didn't break. But when it hit the counter, it must have also hit my camera. Because now the flash is broken and so is the lens. Pieces FELL OFF IN MY HAND when I picked it up. It can take photos, but with no auto focus and no flash and with a nasty looking dent in the top of it.
John very helpfully told me that maybe I shouldn't leave my camera in a place where freak accidents occur.
And, in the midst of me frantically calling every camera repair place in the STATE, Becca peed on the floor. She goes ALL SUMMER with NO ACCIDENTS and now has had 4 in a week. So, there's that too. Goody.
But back to my precioussssssssssss. Any camera places open today say they have to ship it off to be repaired and it will take 6 to 8 weeks. For those of you not paying attention, my baby is due in FOUR weeks. This is what qualifies as an International Crisis of Mega Proportions. I cannot stop crying about this.
This post was going to be about singing in church and how my voice only cracked a few times and I only breathed in a few strange places and John didn't get called in to work so he got to come and I shoved my feet into some mules that fit until I took them off and then I couldn't get them back on and how Becca actually likes going to church now and how we ate yummy donuts and how we're doing home improvements in the basement and the baby freaks out when the power drilling noise starts up, but NO. I cannot talk about those things because MY PRECIOUS IS BROKEN AND THERE IS NO ONE WHO CAN HELP ME. *Sob!*
Why I Stayed Home.
19 hours ago