In addition the pact I set with myself to NOT cut my hair until my diss is done*, a wager now exists as even more incentive for me to work:
B has bet me that he will finish the upstairs bathroom before I finish a full draft of my dissertation.
This is a good-natured wager, with the winner only earning bragging rights.
I am SOOO going to win this one. That bathroom has been raw studs for two years now.
*I wondered aloud, briefly, while running with D the other day, whether or not a TRIM would count as a cut. She berated me vehemently and accused me of near-cheating, and warned me that she would be policing the length of my hair from now on to make sure I don’t try anything sneaky. And while we’re on the subject of my hair, I’m going to record in the next few days, just how much hair I lose when I wash and brush it. And how it seems like soooo much because it is so freakishly long now. Seriously, I look like Cousin It. And no, I can’t take a better picture; my camera’s broke and all I got is this Photobooth crap (which locks up my MacBook frequently–bleah). And aiming the laptop camera at my own back to show my hair but NOT my fanny is nearly impossible (end of hair and fanny are mere inches apart). So this is all you’re getting. Oh, and here is a great pic of me and my family + T and Ch + my aunt R and uncle J from our summer trip.