Small Spaces hate me

I shouldn't be cramped up in tight spaces. I'm far too clumsy. Now while I can sit still for long periods - say, on airplanes - working in such an environment is a different story. I slam my arms and hands into walls and doors. I find every corner of every shelf (or mounting structure or table or..) by hitting my legs on them. And I am the perfect height: too short to have hazards at eye level, but too tall to miss them completely.

Working in the cleanrooms this week has occasionally felt like a gladiatorial gauntlet. At one point I was maneuvering around the xenon system by our detector. I caught my right side on the unistrut, struggling to duck under a refrigerant line I hit my left side on our pumpout cart, and then as I was angrily leaving I hit my head on a large portable lamp hanging down.

Does it get worse? Of course! Not only am I giving myself some ghastly bruises, but I'm doing it constantly. And given how small our clean rooms are, it is usually the same places. So when a corner jabs into my leg, it is probably hitting a bruise. Shouldn't I learn where that corner is and try to avoid it? Well, yes. The visibility in the clean room suits we wear is not excellent... and I'm just an clumsy idiot, apparently. It is hard to not feel like it is my fault, which only makes me angry.

Luckily, these clean rooms are in salt mines and there is plenty of salt I can go out and beat with a stick ("scaling"). It usually helps my anger, though I end up quite sore later. I prefer the pain of sore muscles to bruises, any day. Additionally, I get so covered in salt from scaling that I'm not allowed back in the clean room. Problem solved!