Last year I bought an Instax camera on impulse. I loved it. It came on holidays with us and I enjoyed having Real Photos instead of who knows how many digital images that would probably never see the light of day. Then, disaster struck. It was dropped on our tiled kitchen floor and the plastic bits at the front popped out. I scooped up everything, popped the bits and camera into a ziplock bag, shoved it in a cupboard and then told myself to get the camera fixed every time I opened said cupboard and saw the bag.
This week, I had some spare time before work so I popped along to the camera shop where I bought it and asked about having it fixed. I was told it was probably not worth it, based on the cost involved, and I accepted that, put everything bag in the ziplock bag, put the bag in my handbag and went on my way. The bag haunted me on my bedside table this week, a table I like to keep clear or with only a book or two and a lamp on it.
Tonight, I looked at the bag, took the pieces out and thought to myself that even though I am no engineer and have very little patience surely it couldn’t be that complicated. When himself came home, I handed him a project after dinner. Some 15 minutes later, our beloved Instax was back in business, the proof of which was an extremely unflattering picture of the two of us.
I am going to try to make do and mend more. I have a terrible weakness when it comes to waiting for things. I want them here and I want them now, and the monetary cost is usually something I’ve been willing to put up with. I need to pause, look, think and act in a more considered way. I have a working camera now. And I love my husband.