I have a shopping list.

First, of course, the Nikon D70. I know there’s a new Rebel on the way. I don’t care. I know that means that the old Rebel will go on sale. I don’t care. I’m sure the elder Rebel and the younger Rebel are fine cameras, but I’m stubborn in my imaginary consumerism.

A 21” flat screen monitor. I want bigger and flatter and smarter. I want easier to see. I want more desk space. I need to save my surfaces. Yes. 21” should do nicely. And they’ve really come down in price. And this old antique cube I’m looking at now will no longer serve.

A new desk chair. I’ve parked myself in this chair for nearly a year now. Yes, as with Homer Simpson and Al Bundy, the chair forms nicely to my lazy ass. But there are tears on the arms and, on the edge of the seat, the leather has cracked and peeled like old paint.

As for socks, I’m nicely stocked. Thank you. I don’t need socks.

I’m sure when I at last achieve the D70, I will need a better tripod. My old tripod should be shamed by a new camera. And I’ll probably want a better flash mount. And of course I’ll need a macro lens.

I will have to buy something for Murphy too. My consumerism shouldn’t be thoroughly selfish. I typed 壮helfish’ by mistake, which isn’t a word. In University, in our photography class, there was a pretty girl. And when we had to do a self-portrait she arranged a picture of herself naked, save for her holding a shellfish over her breasts, and a shellfish over her lap. It was a nice enough photograph but the title is what did it for me: I am Too Shellfish. Very punny.

The new Mr. Potato Head, Darth Tater. I have to get that. It’s unimaginably cute. No, not for Murphy. She wouldn’t appreciate it. I shall have to find her a giant Barney.

SS