"If I didn't start painting, I would have raised chickens." -Grandma Moses
Day six.
The mere fact that I have to wear white gloves for work today means that it's going to be roughly a thousand times better than last time. I have the feeling that the smugness of punching in the code to the storage room, carrying tools (i.e. a measuring tape and an archiving pen), numerous folders, and a stack of prints through Brodie is never going to lose its charm. Not to mention the white gloves were either stuffed conspicuously in my back pocket or being worn the entire time.
It's a regular day at the office. Filling out accession reports, being silently aggravated about forgetting my laptop with my music, swearing when I'd stack a print without labeling its collection number, handling some seriously SWEET lithographs (really, I WANT one), memorizing the address of donor Janet L. after filling it out eighteen times...all the nicely therapeutic aspects of gallery work.
But still. Kinda boring.
I nabbed the pair of white gloves, by the way. I figured it was high time I carried a pair around in my bookbag. Don't worry, Cynthia, I'll return them at the end of the year. But they're just too cool to NOT carry around.
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