You know that feeling you had in college, when you had a big paper due? You’d thread through cycles of procrastination and intense effort, finding your rhythm on it at last. But you couldn’t work on the paper every minute of every day: you had to go about the tasks of life and pretend to enjoy them, even as this undone business of the paper cast a grouchy pall on every meal, every chore, every moment.

Or maybe you didn’t have that feeling because you are a much less anxious person than I am. Good for you.

Me, the last two weeks of my life have occurred in the fog of this worry. And yesterday, at 5:33, we FINISHED the paper. Which is not to say we are done with this long-term, intricate project by any means, but the single largest discrete piece of it is done. Oh, and it’s pretty damn good. Here’s hoping we get an A.

Meanwhile, I can carry on with the rest of my life. And file this experience under “Reasons I Will Never Be Pursuing a PhD.”

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