I was SO jealous. He had a real tangible object he could touch, hold, and put on his shelf. I suffered serious box envy. So I contacted Adobe, and asked for one of my own. As the days went by I found myself looking longingly out the office window. Would the Fed X truck stop here today? No. Darn. Well then, what about UPS? No.

Mind you, I have the current Lightroom software loaded and it works just fine. Still I was filled with anticipation waiting for my box to arrive. In my obsession I realized that without the box, for me, Lightroom wasn't really complete. The feeling isn't unlike the one I get when I receive an unwrapped present. It's just not right, even though the content is still there.

I still have my Photoshop 3.0 box tucked away in my closet. I used to have a Photoshop 1.0 box, but I threw it away and now dearly wish I had kept it. I also have the box containing Avalon's PhotoMac 1.0, the first 24-bit color image editor for the Mac. Don't worry if you never heard of the product. Photoshop blew it out of the water back in the early 90s. I don't keep all my software boxes'. I'm not that crazy. I keep the ones I love or the ones I think will have historical significance. I can imagine years from now, when we are up to Lightroom version 8 or 9 or whatever, I'll reach into my closet and hold up the 1.0 box to a group of young people, getting a lot of ooohs and awes... Then again, I might get blank stares. You just never know.

So the box arrived yesterday. My daughter thought it was something from the American Girl Store and she had it in her room. I ripped it out of her hand, and said, "It's mine!" I am holding the box now. It's not as big as the Photoshop 3.0 box. It's kind of cute, actually. It is shrink-wrapped, but I haven't opened it yet. I think I've had enough excitement for one day. I'll save the wrapping for later.