To take good pictures, I need to go out into the world. I can't wait around hoping a good subject will show up in my living room. And yet that's exactly what I do. These cameras beg to be unleashed on the larger world, beyond the confinement of a home. It's like caging a bald eagle. But I'm usually just watching Cheers on Netflix, which is why a majority of my pictures are of the left side of my wife's face as she sits on the couch next to me. That's why I have 800 virtually identical pictures of my dog as she's using her eyes to tell me she wants to go outside to find some adventure, but I think her pained glances are adorable and worthy of photographing eight times from every angle, because six of them will be blurry and I don't know what I'm doing. Here are my feet.
I have 22 exactly like it, all from different days. Sometimes without socks if I'm feeling raunchy.
What absolutely doesn't help is the 32 GB SD card loaded in the camera, which can hold the equivalent of every picture taken in America from 1971 through 1987. Every second the camera isn't being used, it's screaming at me from the other room, begging me to justify its purchase. And then, when I do use it, the memory card which can hold the entirety of human knowledge whispers "Fill me up, daddy" into my ear. It doesn't care if the pictures are going to be submitted to National Geographic or are blurry Thanksgiving pictures that will gather digital dust on my computer. It's just a technological demon with an insatiable appetite for super-high-quality selfies.