Quittin' time

It was not a normal morning to begin with.  I showered.  I put on clean clothes.  I mean actually clean clothes, ones that were just washed, no sniff-test required.  I even put on mascara.  As in make-up!  That's 12 minutes of my morning devoted to hygiene, which has got to be some kind of a record since I started graduate school in August.  I was then going to spend 5 complete minutes drying my hair.  Yes, folks, this is 17 whole, precious minutes.  To put in perspective, that's like two full pages of psychopathology reading.

It was shortly after that, though, that it happened, something so terrifying that I decided it's time to quit graduate school, after completing about 7% of the required time to get my degree. Because I'll put up with a lot, but there are some things I did NOT sign on for. 

Here's what I DID sign on for*:  more work than I could possibly imagine.  I signed on for 35 scheduled hours a week, not including the time it takes to plan my lectures, grade assignments, write papters, do research, prepare for therapy sessions, and most time-consuming of all, complete the hours and hours and hours of assigned reading each week.  I signed on to deal with the occasional snot-nosed, entitled undergraduate (but most of them, I must say, are delightful).  I signed on for asking my husband to take over nearly all home-management duties, minus a therapeutic toilet-scrubbing here or there, all of which burdens my husband has shouldered nobly on top of his very demanding regular job.  I signed on for the word "day off" to become an elusive memory, the realm of fairy tales, the substance of dreams incurred while catnapping under my desk.  I signed on for studying Analysis of Variance on the elliptical machine.  I signed on to consider it a big night when I have time to make english muffin pizzas (from scratch-ish!) for dinner.  I signed on to feel guilty if I sit through an entire movie without at least grading a few dozen quizzes.  I signed on to spend so many hours in the office that I have to keep breakfast food, snack food, lunch food, dinner food, and a toothbrush in my desk.  

I did not, however, sign on for gray hairs.  I'm outta here.

 

*I reserve the right to end this clause with a preposition and retain my grammar police badge.