Andare, Partire, Tornare

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Life in the fast lane, please pass on the left

This is the longest moment I've had at my desk today, and it won't last for long. I've been either scampering around the building opening period rooms up for the open houses that some of the states are holding, or working in the gift shop. Thank God, I'm not having to ring people up. We (the museum staff) don't do giftshop frequently during the year, so we weren't taught the computer sales program, which means that the majority of us have to ring things up on a calculator and multiply to add tax and write it all out on a little note pad - surely this is one of the punishments in the lower rings of hell.

Actually, I'm kind of enjoying the bustle of the event, although the little old ladies in search of the banquet hall invariably end up on our floor looking around in bewilderment, and saying in their high, shrill, little old lady voices, "This doesn't look right! Where is the banquet hall? Where are we?" The banquet hall is on the third floor, as is my office, but it's on the third floor of the other building. As they say, you can't get there from here. You have to go down to the second floor, up a half-set of stairs, around the library balcony, and then up a set of marble stairs or up via our elderly elevator. Hee, I love being in an old building with all this hodgepodge!

I sliced my thumb open with a pair of scissors yesterday. It friggin' hurts. And the bandaid is a less than attractive fashion statement.

If the temporary catering service set up downstairs wants a buck seventy five for their brownies, they're going to have to make better ones. Their brownies blow dead monkey. I expect more for a buck seventy five.

Later: that better translation of Nek, so as Troilus pointed out, I don't terrify would-be fans of the man. Also maybe a posting of the lyrics to "Bomba Boomerang," just for Natalie. And some pictures, too *cackle*.

1:40 p.m. - 2002-07-03

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