Lost Photos

The great thing about photos is that they help you remember the places you’ve been, the beautiful things you’ve seen and people you’ve met. But the problem with photos is that they don’t let you forget.

For example, it wasn’t until I discovered these photos, which had been sitting idly on one of my other cameras, that I remembered the car accident I got into 2 months ago.

Ya, I’d kinda like to forget that. But if you choose to match your rims to your fuchsia corvette, you are asking to be punished. I was being a responsible citizen.

I wouldn’t have to remember the sad trip I took to Detroit to say goodbye to my bloated, dying kitty.

Although I kinda feel like a drama queen now, because homeboy simply refuses to die. He’s all “Why would I die now when MaMa Paige (my sister) feeds me and cleans my butt every day? This is better than I’ve had it in my whole life. Jokes on you, you crybabies. ” I hope his longevity traits pass onto me, but I’m not sure that correlation exists between pets and their owners.

And I wouldn’t have to remember how lame I am at partying (which generally includes a bottle of champagne, falling asleep mid-conversation, and smashing a cupcake in a certain someone’s face). Thanks Peej for the photo.

 
At least I can pledge to clean up my act next year. There’s always next year…

Or maybe I will go ahead and delete these photos now and forget the whole thing ever happened. Living in denial is very healthy.