This week, after processing the medium-format film from my July vacation and also from last week’s trip to Germany (surfing pictures tomorrow!), I came to the conclusion that it would be cheaper for me to set up my own darkroom rather than continue to get my film processed commercially.

The lab with the best prices is located a half-hour drive over the state line. With tolls and gas (two trips: one to drop off the film, one to pick up), it’s about a wash with the local lab, which charges $2 an image and also takes 2-3 weeks to process the film. Then it’s another $2 an image for electronic copies, because let’s face it, who deals with prints any more? So the cost is potentially between $24 and $48 a roll, depending on whether I get prints, CDs, or both — pretty much like throwing dollar bills out the window, especially when I only manage to get 1 good picture out of two or three rolls.

So, why not a darkroom? The previous occupant of our house set up a workshop in the basement with lots of electrical outlets, shelving, counter space, etc. that would be perfect for it. I would need to partition it off, do some lightproofing, and set up the equipment. Basically, there are only three things standing in my way:

1. Funds
2. The least bit of practical knowledge on how to develop pictures
3. The mountain of crap in the basement.

Exhibit A: Here is the corridor that leads to the workshop area.

basement

Those are the ducts from the newly-installed air conditioning that make this space seem so claustrophobic. That’s my brass Egyptian water pipe (everyone calls it my “bong”) that I hid down here so the kids wouldn’t destroy it (and so I wouldn’t have to fend off embarrassing questions from the parents) during Aitch’s birthday party. On the right is a fully functioning, albeit pretty stinky, refrigerator; why is the beer sitting on the floor next to it? Probably because it’s Amstel Light.

If you make a right after the refrigerator, then at the end of this long room is the workshop.

basement1

The previous occupant left us those shelves on the left-hand side of the picture with at least 72 kinds of nails. And, by-the-by, that’s my wedding dress hanging in the LL Bean garment bag. No, I did not get my dress at LL Bean.

Anyway, I am hoping that the photographic evidence of our packratty ways will be a shameful incentive to clean up the damn basement. This weekend, I decided to start a habit of moving one carload of stuff to the thrift store every week, along with one assload of trash to the curb. I spent about an hour going through baby clothes and gear and then loaded the best stuff into the car. I drove up Route 1 to the Salvation Army that has been the victim recipient of my largesse in the past. I drove. I drove. I crossed the state line. Confused, I drove back. And then quite close to home I recognized the outline of the building that USED to contain the Salvation Army thrift store, but now has a shiny “For Lease” sign on it.

An internet search turned up no thrift stores within a 25-mile radius. Sure, there are organizations that will take my nearly-new baby clothes, or near-pristine condition bedding, but no one that will take the lot off my hands.

Actually, there is one group, the Boys and Girls Club, that calls frequently to see if we will be home on Tuesday and have any stuff we want to donate? I have said Yes to this eagerly, once, but then our doorbell got disconnected (long story) and I have no idea if they ever showed up or not. But last week there was a front-page article in the local paper saying that this was a scam! Apparently, someone has been trying to bilk local residents out of their old clothes and VCRs in the name of the Boys and Girls Club! And I have to wonder, why hide behind the charity? At this point if someone called me up and said, “Hi, I’m Joe from down the street, could I come by Tuesday to rifle through your basement and carry away anything that tickles my fancy?” I would probably hand him the keys and make him a sandwich.

(I know what you are thinking. “Yard Sale.” Not sure I have the energy for that.)