Adding further insult to crippling injury, WAG called a group meeting this afternoon. This afternoon being Memorial Day, one of the few holidays Americans get. I would have skipped it, along with the rest of my group, except I’m trying to be a good little postgrad and curry enough favo(u)r to graduate in time to be home for Christmas. So I showed up and made intellectual noises about the work I did while WAG was discussing my project in Ireland with the leading minds in the field.

After the meeting, I lingered and demanded clear and straightforward answers on his perception of my thesis progress. We discussed the department’s recent communiques (which are sent out automatically when a grad student ages enough to start going off) and possible committee choices. Then, tired of trying to guess and worn out from months of disappointment, I just asked.

Dixie: Do you envision me finishing this calendar year?
WAG: No, I don’t think so. It’s not impossible, and certainly by this time next year you should be gone or leaving. But probably not this calendar year.