It means a Dissertation Bender. Days on end filled with nothing but you, the laptop, stacks of books, more coffee than any one person's kidneys should--in a just world--ever have to process, and the sinking realization that the sun has gone down and you still haven't gotten dressed or brushed your teeth, much less actually left the house or spoken to anyone.
But The Date has been good about it. He's been there. He's been taking me on nighttime walks. And he came home with flowers for me in the middle of the worst of it:
They're living in the juice jug, since I don't have a vase to put them in.
All this, for a 30-page draft of Chapter IV. 11,000 words in a week and a half. Gah. My brain is sore.
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