Oh, dear god. I am dead. I am so dead it’s not even funny. I am dead as a doornail. I am deader that a doornail. When my mom comes home…. oh man, I’m dead.

Yesterday morning, I did a bunch of Cyanotypes for photography. We painted the paper Friday, and we were to cook them at home. Because I’m industrious and eager, I decided to wash my cyanotypes in my darkroom so that I wouldn’t have to keep them in the dark until last period. Because all cyanotypes I had done in the past had to be washed for an hour, I washed them for an hour, only to find that they had faded significantly. Grr. Anyway, I cleaned up the darkroom and made it all impeccable and perfect, then left to pursue greater things.

Just now, I went out to the darkroom to collect my dried Cyanotypes, only to find the floor flooded. Somehow, I had left the water just barely running, so that it spilled over the washing tray and onto just about everything we keep next to the enlarger. Dear lord. This includes a binderfull of my mom’s slides and negatives. And some cardboard envelopes of photographic paper. And a framed piece of my mom’s work.

I’ve tried to sweep out the water, and it’s not really working. Ugh.

… and my mom just called to say that she and my dad would be home in 30 minutes. Lord help me.