Write about: the discovery.
I made it. Put it down in the books, it is done and over with. My stretch of working ten of the last twenty days is behind me.
Let it stand as a reminder of why I don't want to work that often in January. Winter is my time of rest; the remaining seasons more than make up for this more leisurely schedule.
Anyway. Technically I'm working tomorrow night as well, but it's hard to count that. Ninety-five percent of the time I'll just be bowling and hanging out anyway. And maybe campaigning for Tuesday nights to become a casual bowling night, rather than coming to a screeching halt at the end of the month.
Finally, here is a picture I took yesterday of Max exploring the wood pile:
Mischievous little monkey.
All that time spent searching through crumbling tomes in stuffy libraries. Fingers, hair, clothing coated in dust as the words tumbled before my eyes, twisting and turning as they attempted to keep their secrets hidden.
Those endless hours conducting interviews with difficult, awkward, sleep-inducing academics. Suffering beneath their pompous gazes, keeping my murderous thoughts disguised by an engaged smile. Thanking them for their time when they had only wasted mine.
The travel. Practically living in airports all over the world. It is a wonder I kept my apartment, that I was still willing to pay rent for a place I so very rarely saw.
So much more as well, but to think that after such dedication and persistence... that my greatest discovery would be within myself.