Worklife... and Fuck you Crab Truck Man

Work has been, as I'm sure I've mentioned, rather chaotic. The west wing is being renovated as quickly (and seemingly cheaply) as possible. They are having to use giant drills like when those guys make holes in the street in order to make big big holes in some old concrete walls. They are using some gas-powered something that's been causing a build up of carbon monoxide in the sub-basement. Obviously we've had to make other arrangements. I walked downstairs today and saw this:

Note sparks escaping the door in hallway on the way to the computer lab. Couldn't manage to get a good pic but you get the idea.

Sparks. Enclosed space. Hallway. Lyre from Ur and other artifacts 20 meters away. Bad.

Because of all this we had to close down the lab last week.

Waa waa..

So I offered to share the fourth floor office. It's working quite well.

We're like little archiving sardines.

We found this early 90's museum ID yesterday in a hanging folder being cannibalized for the metal rods (to hang sleeves of negatives- screw you lightworks!).

I sooo wanna meet Lara R. Lang- just so I can laugh at her bad glasses in 3-D.

Then I played museum happy hour quizzo with some silly folks. We got second place. Tie-breaker question: How many square miles is the area of Brooklyn. I said 7..no at least 9...and they all listened to me. Major Fail.

I was so pleased with my organizational abilities. Moved the entire Al-Hiba archive from sub-basement of west wing to 4th floor of east wing. Luckily I had much help. Such nice geometrically pleasing results. Felt very accomplished after a long day of work...

Then I got doored on my way home. Fuck you crab truck man.