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On the impossibility of schedules

People are busy. Things get rearranged, double-booked, cancelled. I get that, completely. I really, really do.
That still doesn’t mean I don’t feel shitted off when I force myself to come in to the PhD orifice today (on a cold, rainy, thunderstormy, perfect for staying at home and churning out the words kind of day) just so that I can meet with my supervisor at 2pm, only to discover that (a) he hasn’t read my chapter and (b) he has to reschedule our meeting for next week, which is what he said last week, hence today’s meeting. To make matters worse, I organised another meeting for 4pm based on the knowledge that I wouldn’t get much work done after the 2pm meeting. I figured if my brain was going to go on holiday, I might as well make some cash. The benefits of cash aside, I wouldn’t have made the 4pm meeting if I’d known my supervisor was going to bail. I would’ve stayed home, feet in Ugg boots, blanket around shoulders, hunched over my computer with a coffee close at hand, like all other normal reclusive PhD students are today.
Grrrr.

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