I'm emerging from the depths of my cave to briefly let you know that I'm alive.
But I'm alive.
My dissertation is due on Monday. (Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh)
Despite the internal (and external) screaming, I'm actually feeling pretty good about it. I just have some loose ends to tie together, conclusions to strengthen, etc., etc.
But all I really want is a Magnum ice cream bar.
Too bad all of the stores are closed now and I have no food in the fridge.
Because, that often happens when #dissertationofdoom is at your doorstep.
And this is what writing a dissertation looks like.
You forget to buy groceries and rely on free food at seminars to get you through the day.
You also realize that you really, really, really have to do laundry. And that dry shampoo only goes so far. Clean clothes/clean bodies are actually a good thing. What?
You have way too many papers piled on your desks both at home and at the library.
You constantly have bags under your eyes.
You become a walking time bomb. Anything can set you off in either torrents of tears or fits of rage. Or hysteria.
Did I mention that I still really want a Magnum bar?
Tomorrow I'm going to treat myself. Because I'm worth it. And because I hear that ice cream is actually brain food.
*This post brought to you by Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. Because I'm writing about both Wars of 1812 (the British/American and the French/Russian ones), and there's nothing like some cannon fire to wake you up when you have to revise footnotes.*