Sounds Like Somebody's Got A Case Of The Tuesdays
Another day put in at the museum's archaeology lab. Pretty much just your typical labwork: sorting gravel from floatations, washing burial features to be sent to the OSU bone lab people, etc.
Still, there are always a couple things that stand out to make the day that much more interesting.
Like driving into work in the morning through a torrential rainstorm that turned the tunnel at the end of Murray Hill into a displaced Venetian canal.
Or my discovery that some genuius had decided to get rid of the garbage gravel from the floatation sample they were sorting by attempting to flush it down the lab toilet.
Or the sprinkle-coated chocolate-covered cupcakes Allie's mother made for us.
Or, for that matter, the amusing incident that occured when Jim's fifteen-year-old grandson decided he was going to eat all the leftover sprinkles from the empty cupcake tin, tilted said tin back to pour them into his mouth, and succeeded in pouring the sprinkles directly into his eyes.
(This, not more than two minutes right after a lunchtime conversation about Darwin Awards and the definition of schaedenfreude. I kid you not.)
Anyway, I started out the morning washing bones from the burial features uncovered at Danbury this summer...a process that hit a bit of a snag when I unwrapped yet another foil covered package from BF 07-03 and found myself staring at the crushed skeletal remains of the left and lower sides of somebody's face, held together solely by the large clump of dirt it was imbedded in.
"Uh, Jim...?"
"Here, take some dental picks."
So for two and a half hours, I scraped dirt off of fragmented skeletal remains and washed the resulting pieces.
Didn't come anywhere close to finished.
Guess that story's kind of lacking in Nazis and giant rolling boulders, huh?
Still, there are always a couple things that stand out to make the day that much more interesting.
Like driving into work in the morning through a torrential rainstorm that turned the tunnel at the end of Murray Hill into a displaced Venetian canal.
Or my discovery that some genuius had decided to get rid of the garbage gravel from the floatation sample they were sorting by attempting to flush it down the lab toilet.
Or the sprinkle-coated chocolate-covered cupcakes Allie's mother made for us.
Or, for that matter, the amusing incident that occured when Jim's fifteen-year-old grandson decided he was going to eat all the leftover sprinkles from the empty cupcake tin, tilted said tin back to pour them into his mouth, and succeeded in pouring the sprinkles directly into his eyes.
(This, not more than two minutes right after a lunchtime conversation about Darwin Awards and the definition of schaedenfreude. I kid you not.)
Anyway, I started out the morning washing bones from the burial features uncovered at Danbury this summer...a process that hit a bit of a snag when I unwrapped yet another foil covered package from BF 07-03 and found myself staring at the crushed skeletal remains of the left and lower sides of somebody's face, held together solely by the large clump of dirt it was imbedded in.
"Uh, Jim...?"
"Here, take some dental picks."
So for two and a half hours, I scraped dirt off of fragmented skeletal remains and washed the resulting pieces.
Didn't come anywhere close to finished.
Guess that story's kind of lacking in Nazis and giant rolling boulders, huh?