I'm pleasantly surprised. I've decided to hole myself away for the holidays and do some desperately-needed thesis work. I have devised anal little schedules for myself, and instituted a strict regime of breaks (I seem to only be able to do work if I know that I will be stopping work very shortly). Anyway, I just wanted to report that I am actually having fun reading dense academic texts. I am shocked! I associate work with pain: I have not a drop of the Protestant work ethic within my Catholic veins. But the last 45 minutes flew by, I was so immersed.

Perhaps this is what happens when the cloud of guilt lifts? i.e. When I am not trying to write an essay that is 3 months overdue?

Although I imagine that the actual writing process will have more resemblance to a horrid, drawn out 3 month labour, assisted less by numbing pain killers than sharp instruments...