Pro-crast-i-nation

I'm a horrible keeper of photos.

My memory card gets maxed out at 500 photos, and I just start erasing old photos. This, coming from the woman who has her film negatives from 1992 safely stashed in a box, just in case I'd ever want a reprint of that photo of me at the Neil Armstrong Museum. They're all neatly labeled (some of them even have "The roll with prom" written on them. Now that's not bad for organization.

But with digital photos, it's too easy to just say "Oh, yeah, they're on my camera and my computer" (until your computer crashes and you lose everything) to just take the half hour to download them and burn them onto a disc.

So, to avoid folding towels and packing for a bit, I'm going through old photos and burning them. Funny how the mundane becomes interesting when there's dryer lint to clean out, huh.

Also playing this evening: Erin counts carpet fibers, Erin thinks about the meaning of life, and Erin decides to go to bed early, part IX.

(Photo: One of the first photos I had on my camera, from 2004.)