This was a weekend of highs and lows. I will, as is my way, start with the lows:

First off, the actual temperature. It was snowing on Saturday, but–this being Atlanta–none of the snow stuck. So basically what happened is that small pieces of freezing rain made it hard to see and unpleasant to be outside. Y’all, I live in Atlanta. The social contract that we have with Our Lord Weather Jesus is that in exchange for living in a place that is pretty much going to give you asthma is that in does not snow in March. So, basically, ugh.

Low point number two is that I woke up on Sunday morning fresh-and-ready to do some Major Thesis Writing, which I had put off on Saturday in favor of grocery shopping with my dad, because a) I am a good child and b) there were almond horns to be had. This would have been fine except that–much like last Sunday, when I also tried to do some Major Thesis Writing–I woke up with a debilitating migraine. (It’s like my body knows what I’m about to do.) Trying to soldier on, I ate some cheese and drank some orange juice, at which my body pulled a walking octopus and “nope nope nope”d my string cheese right back out of me.

Is there anything better to start your morning with than freshly-regurgitated breakfast cheese, while blinded attempting to do something you don’t really want to do anyway?

(Yes. Pretty much literally anything.)

So that was a fun experience. However, a chat with my aunt shortly after confirmed that this is the Chapman Family Curse and that she, at least, grew out of them by 22 (which I turn next week, so fingers crossed!). Then again, the conversation also included a warning not to take estrogen-containing birth control lest I stroke out, so there’s that.

But not all was terrible! I had a perfectly lovely Friday evening, hanging out with a friend watching the truly, truly terrible 1980s film adaptation of Flowers in the Attic, ie “Affectless Acting: the Film.” In between mocking the actors roundly, my friend politely listened to my story of how I’d spent the night previous out with coworkers at an electronic music show, which was great fun except for the part where an 18-year-old tripping balls on what I assume was molly (is that the new hip club drub? I am old/a nerd.) carried on an entire conversation with me while I peed.

There is no Captain Awkward script good enough to politely but firmly say, “I am peeing, please leave, what the fuck is wrong with you,” while also conveying the appropriate amount of, “also it is 11pm on a school night, young lady, go home.”

But there is nothing I enjoy quite so much as terrible incest-cinema, horrifying my friends’ significant others with incest cinema, or Reese’s eggs, (thanks, Easter, which I assume is happening sometime soon!) and so Friday was quite perfectly enjoyable.

Of course, as the stress migraines have painfully pointed out, I’m still struggling to keep juggling those chainsaws. The chapter I was intending to write today is only five pages in, which means I’ll be writing it this week, and I have not pulled my weight planning my conference. I nearly burst into tears doing grad school readings this past week.

That being said, graduation is approaching. I’ve bought my regalia, and no matter how badly I screw up this semester they are still obligated to give me a diploma. (Suckers.) I still have and like my job. So long as I survive with most of my fingers un-sawed, everything should be okay.