I've got this fear of becoming that workaholic parent or spouse, who invests too much time into her job, and not enough into family and friends.
These days, I find myself trying hard to finish my paper, and trying equally as hard not to build up a guilty conscience over spending so little time with family and friends.
The last couple days, however, what with Sarah visiting, I've finally caved in and set aside my paper. Now I'm back from happy hour at the waterfront, saying 'fuck you' to any sense of self-induced guilt or obligation that creeps my way, and determinedly working on this paper once again.
But I had to pause and share with my readers the sort of sentences that get typed by fingers whose veins are flowing with Chardonnay:
"...derive laws of nature from invariance* of invariance", plus countless typos...I'm a shitty typer even when I'm sober.
*That should say "laws of invariance" I think.
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