Last night, I chanced upon a Tweet from a fellow local Northern Lights photographer – the Merrie Dancers were dancing.
So I grabbed my camera, the right lens, and then spent the next hour upending the entire house looking for the vital bit that attaches my camera to the tripod. That small essential hiding f***ing rectangle thing without which I could not photograph a sausage.
It normally lives permanently attached to my camera body but I had put it in a safe place as I decided not to take a tripod to Norway and hadn’t needed it since my return.
I went through all my “safe places” and my “safe camera places” and just about everywhere I could think of, rifling through every drawer in the house becoming increasingly furious with myself. Daisy and OH were now standing outside the backdoor enjoying a superb light show. Grrrr.
When they came back into the house, saying the show was just about over, ta-da, I found the thing (yes, in my extra safe camera safe place). Why didn’t I look there first? FFS!
And then I could not photograph the bloody things. Blurry photo after blurry photo of green blur – which is my pet peeve. I like crisp clear clean stars. Not lumps.
So I came back indoors to find my Northern Lights photo instructions which are are essential as I always forget what to do. I needed to get my photo settings right.
On my way into the house, I managed to hang myself on a hook, catch my sweater and break my kitchen utensil pot, that I’ve had since 1980’s. I nearly cried with frustration.
But the rage. I am in such a rage. I just could not catch a break. I gave up and went to bed.
Tomorrow, beautiful ponies, I promise. I still see them. They are my Anger Management Therapy. I blame the steroid injections.