The camera wouldn't focus.

To be fair, it's subject matter was sitting on top of a rumbling, shaking washing machine. Which was the point. The thick manual was dog-eared and several neon tabs stuck out of it. Read the manual, yo. It's a thing. Cameras? Kind of complicated. If he ever wanted to get off the Go Take A Picture Of The Car Wreck beat, he'd need to step his game up. Sports. Celebrities. That's the lick. But both of those require split second timing. He had that, just... not... with... a camera.

A sweet shooter, too. 4 framers per second. That's great stuff, right up until you realize you filled your memory card in thirty seconds. Memory cards? Who knew those were so expensive? He'd gotten one on sale. Kind of. Kind of a sale. It wasn't a sale until he'd feigned outrage that there was no sale to honor The Reverend Doctor. It's all about timing.

Click.

Long fingers fiddled with the camera until the screen produced the picture taken. Another fuzzy bonsai. Bonsais aren't fuzzy.

It's all good. Lots of time to practice. Look at that pile of dirty clothes. Right now? Sheets were washing. Not his. We don't have dirty sheets. She did, though. Like, all the time. It was weird. Maybe she just forgot. Sheets. Once a week.

They'd figure it out. Maybe he could get her to count pudding cups. After seven puddings, wash your sheets.

Well.

Hopefully those were pudding stains.