Counting Down

What's that? Something I was supposed to do at work? Oh, sorry, I'm leaving, therefore can't be bothered.

Is that my annoying drunk neighbor again? Why yes, yes it is. Where did I put those water balloons, now?

NEXT!!

Irony: they actually tried to offer me part-time. But at this point, I don't even want it.

Right decision: I had to work until 10 on Thursday. AT NIGHT.

I shall give in notice at my job on Monday.

In Which I Am Surly

5 AM: Baby cries, goes back to sleep.
6:30 AM: We discover it is because he threw up. Oops.
6:35 AM - 6:45 AM: Baby has large serving of delicious miiiiilk.
6:45 AM: Baby throws up again, this time on Mom and Couch.
6:45 AM - 7:45 AM: Bath. More milk. Screaming all around.
9 AM - 11 AM: Someone bothers me about something, on average, every 15 minutes. Boring meeting.
11 AM - 1 PM: Supremely boring meeting.
1 PM - 2 PM: Go home to feed baby.
2 PM - 3 PM: Run unpleasant errands. Lose RFID key card. Become glum.
3 PM - 6 PM: Someone bothers me about something, on average, every 15 minutes.
6:15 PM: Get home. Spouse is surly. Baby is crying.
6:20 PM: Determine that we are never having another child because we will never do anything that might lead to it.
6:30 PM - 8:30 PM: Bath, bed.
8:30 PM - 9 PM: Baby wails in my ear, thrashes about, and bites me.
9 PM: Spouse abandons pile of wet laundry on floor, pile of dry laundry on bed, returns to game.
9:05 PM: Determine that we are never having another child because I will, most likely, kill spouse first.

Stolen

from the excellent Mrs. Spit:

A dinner invitation, once accepted, is a sacred obligation. If you die before the dinner takes place, your executor must attend.

-Ward McAllister

Only Death And Taxes

Here's the thing about academia- well, life: even if you follow the ideal path, there are no guarantees. You can be on track to be CEO, and (heaven forbid) you could get sick. Or you could get married, or divorced, or go bankrupt, or win the lottery. And so on, with varying degrees of probability.

You can get a PhD at a fancy-schmancy R1, go do the ideal postdoc, publish with the Evil Empire, and still not get a faculty job. You can get a job offer at Dream U, and then have it withdrawn by the provost after you have received a written offer due to budget troubles under Aaaahnold.* You can have a job at FancyPants U, and your department can become weebly in its very existence.** You can have a baby and decide you'd rather bake cookies and go to swim lessons all day.

You never know what's going to happen.

Dr. S spent a year in a temporary postdoc, because I still had work to do on my PhD. "You should move to the Frozen North without your wife!" his colleagues said. "You'll ruin your chances of a fellowship!" his advisor scolded.

We had a kid, and we both worked part-time so the kid could stay home with us longer. "You'll lose out and ruin your chances of publication if you work part-time!" his new advisor said. "You'll never get a fellowship now!" his colleagues predicted.

He just got a fellowship.

There are no guarantees. If we had followed the perfect path, and then not gotten the golden ring, the sacrifices would not have been worth it to us. We did as we damn well pleased, because we are living our lives for now, and we still got what we wanted: a happy marriage, good jobs, and a healthy child. Oh, and a fellowship.

So there. TAKE THAT, WORLD!!!


* True story.
** Also true! And JP has all my sympathies.

I now have to nurse my child to sleep every night with a toothbrush.