Close Encounters of the Museum Glass Kind

Since naming my nemesis, I have been lucky. The museum glass has remained some little distance from me - off to the side of the room I work in, quietly wrapped in brown paper and mostly leaving me alone. In return, I do not surreptitiously chip its corners as I walk past.

However, last week we had an encounter. It was Nick's fault. He let somebody order two huge frames with museum glass. Nick did the cutting (thank god) but after that he left me to finish up alone, escaping from the work room with the encouraging words, "Okay, I gotta get out of here before this glass makes me totally neurotic." This coming from my boss, who has been framing for 20 years and is really, really good at it.

Naturally, that set me totally at ease.

But, about half an hour later, I had the piece all finished - backing, wire and all. How, you ask? Not by cleaning the glass. Oh no. No no. My secret - I never touched it. I never sprayed windex on it. I never so much as breathed on it. Its power lies in refusing to become clean, but if it never comes into contact with one single particle of matter that can make it dirty, it has no potency. It does not need to become clean because it already is clean. I will use this against it whenever I can. Muahaha.

However, I'm pretty sure my heart rate was about twice what it normally is during that whole experience. Fortunately, Nick took pity on me when he returned from lunch and did the second piece himself.

But it's not over. I have already seen in next week's orders that one piece will require museum glass.