Kiln Shelves on the Edge of Forever

If I had a time machine - let's say it's a single-use, like those little plastic cameras they leave on the tables at wedding receptions - three possibilities would be in a tight competition for which single use I put my one chance at time travel:

• The obvious, of course: kill Hitler, or Pol Pot, or one of those other murderous bastards who really needed killing before they could commit their bloody acts; or
• Go back and tell my 1982 self, with my handful of graduation-gift money, to buy shares of Microsoft; or
• Go back to December 2013, and tell my last-December-self to just scrape and grind the kiln shelves then, because I am going to hate it ten times worse when I go to bisque at the leading edge of mud season, and find my shelves not ready. It's like have some really inconsiderate studiomate. Except it's me.

I'd probably go with option 3. I've watched enough Star Trek to know that messing with the timeline is dangerous business, so the one with the least far-reaching effect seems wisest. Also, it's doubtful I could pull off a murder, if I could even bring myself to kill someone who hadn't done anything yet; and getting my 18-yr-old self to listen about anything sounds even more improbable than the time machine premise of this whole exercise.

While I am waiting for time travel to be invented, however, I might as well be grinding these shelves.

I'm back. That is my least favorite job! I'm never excited to mix glazes, either, but once I get started I can kind of get into it. Shelf grinding is just, well, a grind.

I'm considering an investment: either some kind of power tool to make this go more easily, or replace all of my shelves with Advancers. The top half of my stack are Advancers already, and they are far far easier to clean, and don't need kiln-washing. Not to mention they are easier on my back.