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.