41

I had wanted to finish by 40.  I missed it by two weeks and a bit, the discrepancy between my birthday and the day I defended my PhD.

So I am 41, which is just the number of times four seasons have passed in my life.  It is now winter and I’ve been living in this house for roughly 41 months.

The scale of a life in a particular place sometimes hits you with odd force.

The new year brings great uncertainty.  It wasn’t helped much when I read the article on doctoral degrees in the special Christmas double issue of The Economist.  It’s a bracing read, bringing the question of grad studies down to fundamentals.  The question being, is it worth pursuing an advanced degree?

Too late, I’m done!

Now, my PhD recovery plan in place, I will get out there in the snow and play a bit, and not worry about it all so much.

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