T-15 Hours

Tonight is probably one of the last late nights of my life (because I can't imagine getting away with this in my future career, whatever it may be). It made me a little sad in realizing how close the end is. Then again, I've felt this way at the end of every school year, so it shouldn't come as any surprise.

At this point, the content on my MPR is complete and I'm spending tonight futzing around with my figures, maps, and appendices before I print and submit sometime in the next 15 hours. Michaela and I have been holed up in the lab since about 8pm last night, with various people floating in and out while we work. The staple has been the potluck meals (pizza, pasta, and chocolate) and the various drinks. While there have been the usual soda and coffee drinks, the favorite is easily the mimosa. Because of this, we've dubbed our work nights as "Mimosas and Meltdowns". Though, I should point out that there are rarely any meltdowns when mimosas are present.

My little camp-out in the Reinhardt lab. 

I hope you didn't think I was joking about our arsenal of supplies.

I learned several years ago that my productivity is highest between the hours of 10pm and 5am. This can be pretty difficult to pull off, since the rest of society operates on an 8am to 4pm schedule but somehow I've managed to make it happen each semester. I spent much of last night finishing the body of my report. Of course, I switch back and forth between writing and playing a game or checking email. There was even a short break to watch the new episode of Nashville, sometime around 3am when it was finally posted to Hulu. I sent off my work to my various editors (you know who you are) around 7am and proceeded to nap on the couch for about 90 minutes before I went to class. I contemplated not going, but I was guilt-tripped into attending by a dream I had. I think the universe was trying to tell me something. It proved to be a good idea, since I got some assistance from my professor on how to wrap up my formatting.

I only paid partial attention in class and still managed to lead the majority of the discussion at one point. I guess that quarter can of Redbull paid off. That was easily my worst decision in all of this. My stomach was knotted up and I could feel my veins, pulsating, on fire. I now remember why I swore off the stuff last year during my senior thesis.

After class, I worked until about 2.15pm on my maps before heading home for a nap. I had this grand plan of sleeping for 6 hours, coming to school around 9pm and churning out the last of my report. My body had other plans, as it always does. There was no hope for me sleeping more than 3 hours before I was roused awake, made food, and came back to campus where we continue the collective writing festivities. I occasionally look up into the right corner of my screen and am reminded that it is still early in my productivity window but it is still no excuse to waste time (even though I'm blogging away over a glass of mimosa).

So, I guess this means the next time you hear from me, this paper will be done. All I can think about it how anti-climatic the print job will be. I'll be standing there, body weight shifted to one side, talking to Michaela about one thing or another while I wait for it to print. And then it will be this physical thing that I will binder-clip together and drop into Mark's box.

And that will be the end.