I threw more succulent pots. I thought I made at least 40 but actually I made only 34. I have 14 more to make. I have the clay and the throwing tools ready by the wheel for tomorrow morning. This is becoming not fun. Repetitive work is tough. I started loosing focus and questioning if this was a meaningful work or not. This thought was discouraging so I needed to change my mind: I might as well make them so well that the hotel guests would steal them from the bathroom. One day months or years from now I might meet one of these guests in their hometown somewhere outside of NYC and find my succulent pots in their home. That would be really fun.