My gChat status currently reads, "frantically attempting to quell feelings of total panic."
AAH. AAH. AAH. AAH. AAH. AAH. AAH. AAH. AAH. AAH.
It's finals week, and I have no finals. But don't be jealous - I am in the throes of "manuscript preparation," as I get my thesis ready to give to my committee next week, so that I can schedule my defense for the beginning of January, and I just found out that I was doing one type of citation TOTALLY WRONG.
AAH. AAH. AAH. AAH. AAH. AAH. AAH. AAH.
And it frightens me to think that there are probably a million other things like that, lurking in the background, just waiting for me to think that I'm close to done so they can poke their nasty little formatting heads up and say, "ha ha, fix me!" like one of those sick sick sick SICK games at the amusement parks and roller-skating rinks where you have to hit the little heads of the chipmunks or whatever as they pop out of various holes and you don't know which hole the head will pop out of next or how many more there will be before you are done with your turn but you HAVE to hit them all to win the game...
That's what this feels like. And I've NEVER been good at that *&*$%# game.