Monday is a day I'm supposed to spent working on "my own stuff." (Which, you may be surprised to hear, does not mean reading novels, eating 85% Venezuelan chocolate, and getting ready to hike the AT.) So I spent the morning working on my dissertation, putting together a spreadsheet of contacts at the sites I'd like to use. Then I had lunch with my friend. Alas, after that I didn't get right back to work but chatted for a while with folks I hadn't seen since I left for AERA. You can decide whether that deserves demerits or not. I spend the afternoon working on one of the three projects I have coded as current priorities, Project Snowball. (These three are projects I'm trying to get ready to submit for publication.) There was a talk I'd planned to go to but skipped out on - not so much to get work done but so as to avoid dealing with parking.
I don't consider the evening part of the time dedicated to "my stuff," so I've spent most of the evening working on one of the three papers due in a month. I've decided to focus on my stratification paper this week. And I went to the gym. The cardio room isn't well-lit, so I couldn't read or anything. Sure, the weight room is lit up, but I've never seen anyone try to read and bench press at the same time!
You might think I'd feel pleased. "Gosh, self, you were productive today. Good work." Nope. Instead, I feel guilty because if I can be this productive, why can't I do it everyday? It's not as if I was working at an unsustainable pace, 20 hours a day with a caffeine drip and a chamber pot under my desk.
Stay tuned for tomorrow's thrilling report, where Turducken sends out some emails, works on a stratification paper, goes to class, and does yoga.
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