I have to write 5000 words of essay by Monday, but something deep inside my brain appears to be broken, and instead of focusing on the actual work I'm spending equal amounts of time freaking out about how much work I have to do by Monday, mixed with daydreams about how much I want an iPhone. So shiny, so pretty, so should be thinking about Latour and Woolgar on credibility conversion as a form of scientific authority.

Although to be fair, I did knock out 1000 words last night and stayed in the library until 9pm, until hunger finally drove me out and I emerged once more, shiny-faced and ratty-haired, into the world of normal people.

I need to take a break (well, I'm at work at the moment with very little to do while I wait for the autoclave to finish working its steamy magic) to allow my aching brain to heal. I thought I'd share a little story. It's called "One Day in Japan When I Ate the Best Beef of My Short Life."




The End.