Besides the dreadful feeling that was rumbling like a mobius loop in my mind I immediately encountered the contents which by sheer luck was so well packed, maybe overpacked that I began to have hope that the contents would be intact. Layer after layer, three in total comprised of folded paper turned into contruction material and big and then finally small bubbled wrap all surrounded the wood box which after removing the materials was untouched by the out of control robots* that must have first inflicted this external damage.
Once unencumbered, I opened the wood box and found yet more packing material done by someone who both cared and knew how to pack, the chawan was intact and none the worse for wear and I will post it at some point in the future. I guess the real meat of this tale is that no matter where a pot is coming from, across state or around the world it is impossible to foresee the travials that will plague the piece and no way of knowing just how well and cared for the packing will be. In this case all's well that ends well but with each and every piece that speeds its way here or from here, I am constantly reminded that the outcome upon receipt hangs in the balance of just how a handful of bubblewrap, some newprint, tape and a box are used to best effect with some time thrown in to kept haste from becoming the enemy of the baked and ever so slightly fragile clay.
(*Robots, yes
I am a bit fixated on them having grown up watching horribly bad 50s, 60s and
70s Sci-Fi on TV and the weekend matinees.)
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