Shit on a shingle

I’ve come back to work today despite the fact that I actually feel worse than I did yesterday, and now they’re doing construction somewhere in the building using hammers and drills which may as well be pounding/creating holes in my head for all it’s helping my headache and weariness. My throat hurts more; my joints feel like they’re being held together with rubber bands about to snap. Dippy.

Add to that the fact that I just found out via e-mail that my defense is going to be March 25–a full week before I thought it would be–and my crabiness is magnified. I recently went over all the Graduate School’s deadlines and could have sworn that April was when defenses were done, but I guess not anymore. March 25. It’s yet another reason to dislike March, and believe me, I have many reasons to dislike the month, allergies and SAD just being two of the minor ones. March 25. Dammit.

Plus, that week is going to be teh suck. The 23rd is the department’s honors ceremony for all the SASC and 21st Century Scholar students, and I have to attend. The 24th is when the Student Friends of the Library is having the big Murder Mystery event. On the bright side (if there is one on the dark side of the moon or in Hell), it is the week after spring break which means a week without students or classes to distract me or the committee from working on this steaming pile of poo I call a thesis. March 25. Dippy. Can we tell that illness/shock/stress is getting to me? March 25. Dammit.

So today, after much e-mail tag and some short meetings, I’ll be working solely on getting the monkey off my back–if only I can get the stinging in my eyes to go away so I can see. @#$%^&* perfume-wearing mofos who keep wandering in/past my office. My head’s swimming again. March 25. Dippy. I don’t have enough drugs to get past this. I don’t have enough caffeine to get me through this. I’m more than a little worried about my mental status since I’ve been having strange dreams and dangerous mood swings. Dammit. March 25. A month and it’s practically over. I almost feel I need to warn those around me to watch out for venom and screams. Caffeine, Tylenol, chocolate… I’ll get through this. Just you watch. March 25. Dippy. Dammit.

3 thoughts on “Shit on a shingle”

  1. Lushbaugh

    This is it:

    This is what we thesis writers call gut check time. In the past, they let us pick our thesis defense dates but that must have changed. As Winston Churchill once said, "If it feels like you're going through hell, keep going." So blast through the burn, master your , faster max and so on. Look at it this way, you've got roughly 720 hours until thesis defense time. That's also 43200 minutes.

  2. Holly

    Unrelated:

    This is extremely unrelated to what this entry is about, but I think Im going to need a pen bag! I've collected so many wonderful colors.

Comments are closed.