It arrives.

Just got home from tutoring, and lo and behold--a long-expected (but much larger than expected) parcel had been deposited on my front porch. I scurried to the kitchen table and rapidly began ripping off packaging tape... and out of layer upon layer of--thankfully unused--bright blue adult diapers (a completely bizarre substitute for bubble wrap; made me wonder about the seller), my vintage Polaroid OneStep finally emerged, bright and shining after its 2-week Ebay-auction gestation period. We regarded each other like mother and newborn child.
Ah, Winston: how many years I have waited for thee, and thou wert only two dollars.

The first picture I took (with this Polaroid or any Polaroid, ever) was of my face, in bad lighting, and it made my nose look monstrously large--more monstrously large than it actually is, which is substantial; I'm Scottish. I posted it proudly on the fridge nevertheless, next to my lithograph of Mary Sidney and Andy's scribbled pissed-off-sunshine drawing. Classy.
Next stop, the UO campus--where I'll finally get a snapshot of the stenciled spray-painting that I noticed on a sorority door several months ago--featuring Richie and Margot Tenenbaum, face to face.
But first, an extensive test in linguistics. Shittity brickity.