I'm sending the very final draft of my thesis to my supervisor on Sunday, which means that this is my week in Thesis Hell. In a creepy echo of my undergraduate thesis, this means setting up a desk at my boyfriend's house and sitting in a blizzard of papers and dirty dishes and staring at my laptop for roughly fifteen hours a day. (The difference is that David is in Essay Hell in the room next door, which would be cute if we weren't both getting our asses kicked by academia.)
I feel gross. I only get up to pee and forage for cereal downstairs. I haven't been to my gym since Saturday. Today, I got up and went to work at a cafe, but I was so overwhelmed by the presence of other human beings that I only wrote three paragraphs in the two hours I was there and decided that I can't afford to do that anymore. Except I'm secretly worried that I'm going to fuse to my chair, so I might break that rule.