Reconsideration

I think I am justified in calling myself a consistent person. I rarely make black and white declarations, but when I do, I stick to them. I think an important part of forging and maintaining my identity is standing by the decisions I've made.

So, it is not without ample consideration that I venture to retract a statement I made in no uncertain terms, in this very blog, not long ago. It was a statement I made while still green on the subject matter - a statement that has proven too extreme now that I am better acquainted with the facts of the case.

The truth is, I'm not sure museum glass is actually my nemesis...

I know, I know. What about those things I said? How do I know I'm not falling prey to a ploy on the part of the glass to get my guard down so that it can strike back when I least expect it? Don't think I haven't considered these things. However, I've learned a lot since I first met museum glass back in February. Chiefly, this finicky material is not so bad to work with, as long as it's handled properly.

Lately, I more view museum glass as that eccentric genius - you know, the guy who drives everyone crazy in most spy films because he's completely inept dealing with people, but the other characters put up with him and even rely on him, because he has the skills to get everyone through tight spots. Simultaneously, they all know his quirks and take great pains to avoid ruffing his feathers, because when he's pissed he'll put the whole mission in jeopardy.

I have to admit, in a few cases, museum glass has been there for me when no other kind of glass would do. It's uv protection coupled with the non-glare and also non-foggy coating is truly a wonder. Museum glass, once installed, literally dissolves into the shadows and disappears - just like those really cool guys in spy movies. Also like those really cool guys in spy movies, incorrect handling will make it make your life a living hell.

Still, having now used museum glass with very little difficulty quite a number of times, I hereby retract the title of nemesis I once bestowed upon my sometime adversary. Instead I extend my hand (wearing a lint free cotton glove, of course) in a tentative gesture of friendship and forgiveness.