Every other day, every other day
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah.
But whenever Monday comes - but whenever Monday comes
You can find me crying all of the time.
Monday, Monday, can't trust that day;
Monday Monday it just turns out that way.
Oh Monday, Monday, won't go away;
Monday, Monday, it's here to stay.
Mondays in general have a bit of a bad reputation, but the first working Monday of a New Year, after the prolonged period of festivity, is a particular doozer. However, following my planning session yesterday, I approached this Monday morning with less trepidation than usual, clutching my chunking schedule to my chest, like a talisman.
I was well aware that my 4 x 1 1/2 hour sessions were somewhat optimistic, especially as the workroom was in a more than usual state of disarray so I had to spend a fair chunk of time clearing a space in which to work, and relocating the detritus of the past few weeks.
That done, I decided to start off with a casting session, the first since last summer. Predictably, my tub of porcelain slip, having sat, undisturbed, in a cupboard for six months, had settled into a semi-solid state. This is not unusual, but as the tub was only quarter full, I took the decision to break open a new box of slip and merge it with the congealed slip, a lengthy and time consuming process, never lightly undertaken.
After sieving the old slip into a bowl and returning it to a liquid state, I had to thoroughly clean out the empty plastic tub, a messy task which afterwards rendered my scouring pad sponge fit only for the bin.
That done, and with slip up to my elbows, I turned my attention to the box of new slip, which contained a heavy duty, vacuum-sealed polythene bag, which needed to be pummelled into submission to remove any lumps.
There is something strangely cathartic and comforting about punching the living daylights out of a bag of slip. I set about the task with vim and vigour, releasing a goodly amount of accumulated, pent-up stress and frustration in the process.
Having subdued the new slip, it was then relatively easy to sieve it into two large bowls, at which point I belatedly wondered if all of the old and new slip would fit back into the gallon tub. There did seem to be an awful lot of it.
Eventually, having decanted as much as I could into the tub, I was left with half a jug of slip, which I was confident would be enough for a casting session, given that I was only casting a few molds for very small toy dolls. Thankfully, in this instance at least, my confidence was rewarded and there was almost exactly enough, with just a few millilitres left over.
However, all of this sent my chunking schedule out of whack, and it was a real scramble to complete another one, which meant that my final two chunks had to be punted.
- Some tasks just can't be achieved in a 90 minute chunk
- Preparation time has to be a separate task
- I have to be more conscious of the limitations of my MS-related pain and fatigue
- I shouldn't beat myself up over not achieving all I set out to do
After all.... tomorrow is another day *sigh*