A fat cat. Sadly, not mine. Ever since the finch died from neglect.... (Just kidding!)
I am filled with further musings on motherhood, rural poverty, tuition assistance, wildlife preserves, the inherent bias in postdoc funding, how a few easy changes could help more women not run away screaming from science, and my dear alma mater's unrelenting, tedious habit of hitting me up for cash.* Instead of musing on these things with you, dear readers, I am reading more of the eternal manuscripts, re-doing the journal's website AGAIN, and, as ever, a mountain of lab work. Sigh.
[*Which I refuse to give them, following how both female profs in my department quit, and the best junior professor was fired against the unanimous recommendation of the department. ]
A few thoughts floated off the top of the brain:
- I never want to quit so much as a) after I talk to my advisor or b) after I talk to our tech. Who earns 2.5 times my salary and couldn't draw a straight line between two points. A typical conversation goes something like: Yes, it's broken. Broken. It doesn't cool off. Cool. Like a refrigerator. COLD!! LIKE ICE!!! Yes, call the company. The refrigerator repair person? NO!! Call the company. On the card. The card. Right here. No, I didn't break it. No. No, it just broke. It broke. Broke. You have a car? Doesn't it break? Oh my dear Cthulu why do we pay you for this? Give me that phone.
- Someone told Mr. S last week that really, Snooty U was doing poor students a favor, because they couldn't possibly have the proper preparation for a Snooty education. Mr. S grew up very poor indeed. Steam from the ears.
- Mr. S has a defense date! The paper went out! At least one of us gets to leave this hellhole.
- Right before which Titania flaked out. That thing where she and Mr. S had talked in JANUARY and she said, oh yes, I'll pay you a postdoc salary for a year? Yeah, that thing. No go! No money! Sorry! Freaking out ensued.
- Fortunately, someone offered him a one-year postdoc within a day. A good one. In fact, said someone was practically begging on hands and knees. Why yes, it was a junior professor!
- The postal carrier relabeled our box Scientists Gloomy. I guess he got tired of delivering mail to an imaginary person, and re-invented me.
Hope you all have lovely, peaceful, sunny weekends.
