So I called my dad up two evenings ago after a little bout of phone tag. I hadn’t talked to him since he and my mom returned from a week long honeymoon/fun-run through China. The conversation:

“Hi ba, did you call me?”
“Hmm? Oh yes, mommy and me want to know when we can see you. Friday?”
“Yeah, Friday’s fine. Why for?”
“So I give you the money. $200 enough? I was looking, and I think it is enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“Oh, yeah, for your camera. We forgot your camera in Texas.”
“You lost my camera?”
“Yeah, at my friend house in Texas.”
“You lost my camera?”
“Mmm.”
“You lost my camera?”
“You want me to say it again?”
“How did you lose my camera!”
“We were in a hurry, get all the packaging and luggage. I’m not sure. Probably in taxi.”
“In a taxi in Texas?”
“No no, in Peking. Or Shanghai, we went through Shanghai on day two. So is $200 enough?”

It’s not really that I need a digital camera — in fact, I lent my dad the thing for the trip because I’d been so lax in using it lately (schoolwork keeping me busy and the like). And the principal of the matter doesn’t really bother me either — it’s not like I’ve never caused him a ruckus in my perpetual growing-up phase. It’s the fact that my camera had a cool Finch sticker on it, and whoever the Chinese or Texan (or both? a lethal combination) miscreant that is handling my camera simply cannot appreciate the uniqueness of my Finch-branded Canon S50.

I don’t even like Finch anymore. It just took me a long time to cut the sticker to the proper shape.