I used to get places ahead of time. I used to get straight A’s. I used to sit down at a table like a civilized person for my breakfast cereal, then wash the bowl and spoon and put them away immediately like a very good girl.

Something went terribly wrong in my 20s.

On the upside, I’ve learned I’m quite the prolific knitter when I’m hung over. Admire to the left the baby sweater I created for my friend and mommy-to-be while in a post-binge-drinking-at-slumber-party stupor over the weekend. The pink yarn is 100% bamboo –

Still, I feel terribly dilettantish, with no raison d’être for my more-than-quarter century existence. Saturday: Went to the Basquiat exhibit at the MOCA — He OD’d when just a few months older than I am now, with a lot more to show for his short life than I have to show.

At least I’m in good company. I’ve been getting a lot of clickthroughs from Bitch PhD, not due to any of my more thought-out comments on women’s rights, but for a comment I made about procrastinating on dissertation work.

This week: I’m taking an alcohol hiatus to see if that’ll effect any kind of change in my self-motivation efforts. Slowly working up to the dissertation thing — Today I’m attacking the kitchen. My roommates’ white board notes have gone from horror (”We have ants!) to ominous foreboding (”If we keep leaving dirty dishes in the sink, the ants will never leave…”).

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