Even my blood is tired right now

That sound you hear in the background is another dissertation chapter unspooling from my printer. When my eyes uncross, I will read it over for typos (my favorite of the day = "Hundred Tears War"), fix the citations in the footnotes, and send it on to my advisor. 

I have gotten to the point of the project where my friends have been asking if they need to come by with food. (I forget to eat when I am working. Once, in a now-notorious incident, I wrote a meal into the novel, and convinced myself that I had eaten as well, and was astounded to, five hours later, walk into the kitchen to see my meal laid out and realize that no, my characters had dinner, but I did not.)

And I am grumpy at the dissertation all the time. My friend Damien says this is because I am at the end, and I know all the arguments and just need to get them down on paper. And he's exactly right. I have been living with this project for three years. The entirety of it is in draft, and two of the four chapters are approved. I know what it is I need to say, I just need to make the translation from it making sense in my head to it making sense on paper. Which is easier said than done, and sometimes results in my railing at the French for speaking so much French. 

But for right now, I will let the sound of the printer soothe me.