Good morning, ladies and gentlemen!
For the last three weeks or so, I have been working as a last-minute hire on a huge processing project at the Countway Library, part of the Harvard library system.
We have now arrived at the point in the project where myself and my co-processing assistant need to rearrange something in the realm of 140 boxes worth of material.
For those of you who are not archivists, this means taking boxes approximately the size of those in which Staples sells its reams of printer paper which are full of file folders -- anywhere from 15 to 160 -- and putting them into order.
What order, says you?
Why, into series, subseries, alphabetical, original, and numerical order, depending on decisions made many moons ago by our processing archivist, says I.
What does all this mean and why am I telling you this?
It means there is no real blog post here today because my left wrist is totally tweaked out what with heaving boxes to and fro (mostly fro); picking up folders from here and putting them there; picking up folders from there and putting them here; and so forth.
Therefore, expect no brilliance this week, folks -- I'll try to find some nifty things for Wednesday and Friday, though. Watch this space! (Well, not this space precisely -- a space sort of slightly above -- oh, forget it.)
coming home from very lonely places, all of us go a little mad:
whether from great personal success,
or just an all-night drive,
we are the sole survivors of a world
no one else has ever seen. - john le carre
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