I just spent the last twenty minutes with half of my body in the large plastic recycle bin outside my apartment building. Flashlight in hand, digging furiously through old newspapers and stale beer soaked cardboard, I must have deposited half the bin’s contents onto the grass and in the process got a few sideways glances from well-dressed couples making their way downtown.
I don’t know what it is with me and my small army of Compact Flash cards, but it’s almost as if these things sneak away in the night and find new hiding places for me to seek out the next day. In the short time I’ve owned my DSLR, I’ve had to hunt down lost flash cards at least once a week, this trash can excavation being the latest.
I hate, I mean fucking hate losing things. In my OCD world of mental organization and endless to-do lists, there’s nothing that makes me tear my hair out more than the notion that I’m perhaps being careless or absent-minded. Thankfully, in tonight’s case, I found the Compact Flash card sitting politely at the bottom of a tattered box that was shipped to me a couple days prior. The card is only worth 30 bucks or so and in most cases I’d simply cut my losses, but this one was storing photos taken recently for a client’s project that I had procrastinated on backing up to my hard drive. Whoops. Perhaps this was my not-so-subtle lesson on the importance of promptness. And locking my compact flash cards up in a sturdy cage at night.