From the Archives

I had totally forgotten this.  Such fantastic opportunities for mockery.  Second-favorite: the undergrads who wandered around in ridiculous back-to-the-80s Fashion Victim clothes.  (These can be found here in Cold City, too.)

"In the hottest room in the library, two wilting undergraduates sit in Naugahyde chairs. One is holding a limp calla lily. The other is sitting by the window.

I am looking for a book. They keep talking.

'He said the world is justified by esthetics but it couldn't be! That would be too cruel.' 

'Darling, we all have an inner strength and you just need to find your center....'

These are the deep metaphysical conversations that only 18-year-olds can manage. And the inner strength... could doubtless be found by moving to a cooler room.

P.S. I am not making this up."

In Which I Am Irritable

Much like all spouses or partners, mine drives me completely up the wall sometimes.  For example... now.

I am leaving in nine days.  Of ALL the moving things - including utilities, mail forwarding, finding preschool for Bug, selling/ giving away stuff, moving arrangements, movers for the moving arrangements, storage for the fucking moving arrangements (thanks again, R and C!), telephones, new-hire paperwork, transfer of medical records, banking, realtors, house-selling, AND SO ON, my spouse has done exactly two: he found us somewhere to live (faculty housing owned by the university), and watched the kids while I cleaned (and cleaned and cleaned and cleaned).  

It's fine.  I'm better at things involving a bazillion small details.  He has a job, so I took care of it.  I have the kids, who haven't suffered at all while I dealt with all these things, and who aren't feeling neglected one bit.  

(Bug has now been whining and/or screaming for two hours straight.  I've only been awake for two hours.  Dear small child: shut the fuck up.)

However, the relentlessly negative attitude is starting to grate.  I am, of course, a ray of cheerful sunshine at all times.  But the negativity!  About all things moving-related!  "The house won't sell in a month.  No way."  (Full-price offer in four DAYS.)  "No way the movers will come pick stuff up from storage.  They'll whine and complain."  (They said no problem, meet you there.)  "We can't make it to the bank and to work in time."  (We could have FUCKING TRIED, because, you know, it only took 45 minutes with both children in tow, which I did to make his life easier and most decidedly not because "open bank account with two screaming/fighting children" was, in any way, fun.)

Anyhow.  I may be feeling annoyed, irritated, and underappreciated.  Just A LITTLE TINY BIT.

In Which I Bite My Tongue

Said to me, and I said nothing:  "I have a migraine, and the only thing that ever helps is Excedrin, and I can't take anything* because I'm pregnant, so I just yelled at my kid and had a miserable morning instead."

(Not me. Obviously.)

*Probably not that much aspirin every day, no.  At 5.5 weeks, probably once, yes.  Or!  The rest of the ingredients, without the aspirin, even!

"Grad School Is a Sunk Cost"

Some pratty little business-school first-year once told me that my experience in grad school was a sunk cost and therefore I should quit since I hated it.  He then compared it to an opera ticket to a bad performance of Aida.

Although I'm the first to admit that economic theory goes whoosh over my head, the way I understand a sunk cost is like this: You paid/invested quantity X for Thing Y.  You have received or will receive benefit amount Z.  If you can receive more benefit from doing Thing A, then you should ignore the X you paid and not do Thing Y any more.  

This dude- who is, I fervently hope, not doing anything with people any more - tried to say that I had put X amount of suffering into grad school and thus far received nothing, therefore I should quit.  However, scientists can generally estimate whether or not they will ever graduate, and in how many years (+/- 2, but still).  So further investment in grad school does in fact get you something - a PhD - which is worth more in future earnings, respect, and career possibilities than not having it.  (At least, we hope.) 

So I think grad school isn't like a sunk cost fallacy.  It's like a 5-year T-bill. Cash it in early and get nothing, wait it out painfully and maybe get your investment back with some interest.  Hope the government doesn't go bankrupt in the meantime.

(This happened to someone I knew in grad school: the lab's funding ran out before she graduated.  You can imagine the disaster that ensued.)

Les 3 phases du stress

1) Find that you are now, for real, allergic to practically everything.

2) Subsist on smoked salmon, cashews, and salad.  Also wine, and some chocolate.

3) Despite, or perhaps because of*, this, find that you have lost five pounds in five weeks.

Not so good.

*"L'organisme, débordé et sollicité en permanence par la situation de stress qui se prolonge et s'intensifie, ne réussit plus à mobiliser ses ressources et s'épuise." (The organism, overwhelmed and constantly strained by an ongoing, intensifying stressful situation, can no longer muster its resources and gives out.)

In Which I Agonize Over Completely Theoretical Decisions

Beat the rush, I say: get the agony out of the way well in advance!

Dr. S, as I've mentioned, has a one-year contract at Mountain U.  (I am trying hard to be optimistic about us not being HOMELESS ON THE STREET after next year.  "Don't worry", Dr. S always says, "your parents would take us in.")

The local transport company has a contract with Bicycle Company.  Surely they should hire me at an exorbitant hourly rate, part-time, to solve all their bicycle-related problems!  

(As I haven't yet sent them a resume, this is completely theoretical.)

But... Dr. S really kind of wants a third child.  The two we have are going through a scream/whine-12-hours-a-day phase, which makes one think hey!  This is plenty of children!  I don't enjoy being pregnant.*  I kind of want a job.  And I really want a little financial security and stability.  Fifteen years of this nonsense is enough.

And seriously.  Three?  No.  NOOOOOO.**

And... maybe I need to go have a stiff drink and knit a sock and stop thinking about it.  Because none of these things are getting decided now.


*By which I mean "I am completely miserable for 38 weeks straight."
**Your mileage may vary.

Oh. My. Cthulhu.

My house, you guys?  It just got sold.  I mean, contingent on all those fun things like financing and appraisal and inspection.  But still.  It was on the market for four days, and we got a full-price offer.  We're doing a flat-fee service so I probably have to run around town to title agencies and so on, but still.  That's totally worth $4500 to me - the difference between what I am paying this realtor, and 3%.

Words cannot express the heartburn, anxiety (literally too anxious to eat!), tears, and anguish that went into getting this damn house ready to show, with two tots living in it.  It.  Was.  Awful.  However, hopefully now it's over.  Somehow, I'm still anxious....

When we bought it three years ago, we did a lot of research first, trying to predict when the housing market would hit bottom here, and when it would recover.  (About six months after we bought, and about now, in case you're wondering.)  We looked at a lot of data.  And now, people are saying "Well, but you couldn't have known."  True: nobody really knows the future.  But you know what?  We made a darn good guess.

I believe economists call them 'projections.'