It's a beautiful sunny day here, yet thanks to my exceptional ability to procrastinate, I am forced to sit inside and work on job applications and funding proposals with only the cat for company.
And the cat has got so bored that he's fallen asleep on me.
At least it means I can't move from my desk.
I'm not sure if you know anything about the academic job market, but it's pretty much like the normal job market but worse.
Candidates for one of the fellowships that I am applying for have a less than 5% chance of success and for the other fellowship, candidates have a 1% chance.
To say that it sucks would probably be the biggest understatement of the year.
If another person tells me 'oh well, someone's got to get it' or 'you won't have any chance if you don't apply!' I will not be responsible for my actions.
But enough of focusing on the downsides because, quite frankly, the reality of it is that I've found a job that I love and a project I want to work on for which I will sacrifice pretty much everything.
And how many people have the dubious honour of saying something like that?
In some ways I think it's quite cool.
In other news, my horse has a problem.
Actually, Polly is a problem, as well as having multiple problems (and, occasionally, multiple personality disorders).
But this particular problem is an addiction to accidents and hurting herself.
Some might call it self-harming, but I think it's more likely a somewhat admirable but exceptionally foolish disregard for personal safety.
This is not only frustrating but rather costly, as you can imagine.
Why is it that when you put 'horse' in front of any product name - for example 'horse shampoo' as opposed to 'shampoo' - the price increases by approximately 12338679084448003928%?
Something to think about.
|Butter wouldn't melt.|
It is very good that my horse is hyper-aware of dragons that lurk in ditches, lions that are concealed behind innocuous-seeming logs, and horse-eating sheep (bred only in Fife, as far as I'm aware).
I'm grateful that she is concerned for my safety when I ride her and is keen to ensure that we stay well away from these potentially life-threatening hazards.
It is not very good, however, that when she is in the field, these alarming predators (also known as the wind, leaves, and, sometimes, a lurking cat) cause her to spin, gallop flat out, rear, buck, pace up and down, crack out some extended trot that would have scored well in an Olympic Dressage test, snort loudly and, most of the time, lose a shoe (normally when she's just had a set put on), or cut herself in a way that perplexes the vet, causes me near-fatal heart attacks and necessitates a lengthy period of box-rest and pampering.
|Who knew that dragons still exist in Scotland?|
Perhaps the clue is in that final word.
My horse is an attention seeker and feels that the only way that she can divert my attention from St Fanta the Elderly, or baby Scoop, is to hurt herself.
I am a bad mother.
I think the content of this post proves that I probably should not spend extended periods alone with no-one else to talk to apart from a sleeping cat.