In which our hero suffers from a distinct paucity of boxes.
I have a whole new kind of procrastination. It's called: not moving out. Or, more precisely, not packing up the desk that I've been inhabiting for the past four years.
Yes! It's time for me to move on from my corner of the Postgraduate room; now that I'm a "Doctor", apparently I'm not welcome to live with the little people. And I have to move to Cambridge – yes, I am leaving St Andrews for Cambridge (again), and yes, this is causing a slight case of the jibblies. And no: I don't have a job there (not for lack of trying, though). Anyway. Packing is teh suxxors. Booooooooooooo!
Note: this next picture was taken after I had taken all my books back to the library. I am slightly worried that I've turned into the mad old man who has a house full of books on obscure subjects which are covered in post-it notes and pencil-written marginalia.
I hate packing. And the house is still to go...
posted by skye at
8:57 PM
2 Comments:
Oh, congrats Skye!! You must feel relieved. Yet perhaps you also suffer from post PhD stress, which causes you to wake up in a sweat in the middle of the night because you haven't done research in days or even weeks and then you remember that ... you are finished. Until the next night, when it happens all over again.
SP
I hear G has already moved into your old desk...at least she waited for your chair to grow cold (or at least a little cool)!
JA
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