It's all so disappointing on many levels. I'm still kicking myself for being careless enough to let this happen. Given that starting "the 400" was a high point in an otherwise trying week, I can't say as the timing of the accident could be much worse. To top it, it's unlikely that I'll be able in good faith to satisfy my near-primal urge to repair and reuse. This machine had a lot of life in it still, but I probably can't bring it back.
There aren't too many things to which I get so attached - my camera, my computer, my car, my kitchen knives. Because of the freedom they afford and the ways in which I'm able to express myself through them, they come to feel like extensions of that self. To have to retire one, even knowing that there's something better ready to replace it, is difficult. To have to retire one because of my own carelessness? Then it feels like I've failed something very fundamental.