I am done with my thesis! Yes--all done. 100 pages done.
I wish I could say that at the moment I finished, there was fanfare and champagne, but actually what I did was go for a run in the cold and come home and do some more work. Then I woke up this morning and slipped on some ice on the way to work and fell flat on my back (sounded like a sack of bricks...), took three wavering steps, slipped again, made it to the end of the road, fell again, got all the way to the train station and into Cambridge, then slid my way to the office building.
Moral? Writing a 100 page thesis on the use of narrative structure to convey political messages doesn't make you any more graceful. Like the time I turned four and thought I would just wake up and be able to draw a heart (this was a huge ambition of mine as a kid), and found out that actually, just because you're older, doesn't mean you don't still have to learn.
Turns out that's still true.