I am continuing to work through my outline, pushing myself to deal here, now, upfront, with the peskier problems and confusions that keep tripping me up when I set to actually write. I have also scheduled a meeting with one of my advisors for tomorrow, to go over my outline and make sure it is sound. Well...the main point of having this meeting is perhaps nothing more than to force me to finish this outline. I am so sick of this section of my chapter, I would like to stay home for a week and do nothing but bake cookies. (Something I probably shouldn't say on my blog, as my husband reads my blog sometimes, and I am not sure he wouldn't encourage Project Cookies-Out-the-Wazoo.)

In other news:

* Financial crisis in the Snail household! Wait, family to the rescue and we are temporarily saved! Or are we??? Snails busy themselves locating financial documents and setting up meetings and such. Eventual outcome? Still unknown.

* Computer equipment failure! But wait, new equipment purchased! But wait again, new equipment might still not be working right! Will Snail have to suck it up and finally buy a new battery for her poor little machine?

* I have a new tutoring gig, which I am enjoying. Also, I got past the first round of eliminations for a certain job next year. Next week I will have to pass an interview. In the meantime, I no longer have any interview-worthy clothes that fit me. (Somewhere between nursing and switching to a near-vegan diet I have dropped a couple clothes sizes.) Fret fret fret.

* Hey, if I do get this job, it could readily turn into a really nifty teaching position by the end of next year! Except not! Because I would have to be ABD by the end of the spring quarter, and, uh, yeah, NO, I don't think that will happen. By the end of the summer? Sure. Easily. Not by the end of the spring.

* At the end of next week, I must stop working on this diss chapter and instead turn my attention to writing two conference papers. Can I get past this nasty section of my chapter before then? Can I get close? Can I relocate my dissertation mojo?

OK, time to pack up and return to the House of the Whining Son. It's been the ruin of many a poor mom, and believe me, I know. I'm one.