uncomfortableThis morning, the drugstore called to inform me that they haven't destroyed my film after all, and that if I'd like the pictures I took in June of 2000, I can pick them up at any time. This is either the roll I used up tresspassing in the ruins of an abandoned bullfighting stadium in Uruguay, or a new set of pictures using the spiffy 3D Camera. Either way, it'll be nice to finally get those.
The fates are clearly conspiring, but it took me a minute to read the message this time: There's an old teacher and business associate I ran into at the conference last week, and I am apparently meant to put aside my reservations and call him.
...but not until Friday. Can't ignore the interval.
