Day 983: The grind

You know, this is a poorly titled post. The word grind (in my mind) conjures up the image of someone working diligently and somewhat frazzled-ly because of how much work there is to do. My situation is actually the opposite of grind. It's very routine, but the last thing it is is a grind.

I wake up. I do yoga (I've been lagging lately). I eat breakfast (Cheerios!). I bike to the lab. I plug in my laptop and chat with people/read stroke papers/listen to NPR/check my email 8-billion times/sit around. I eat lunch. I continue chatting with people/reading stroke papers/listening to whatever NPR/Morning Edition I haven't finished listening to/checking my email/sitting around. If the lab PC is availble, I switch over to do some work. I leave at 4pm for my bike ride home. Depending on the day, I go to the gym with my friend around 5 or I go for a run around my 'hood. I come home. I shower. I work. I watch TV with my Mom. I go to bed around midnight.

Rinse. Repeat on weekdays, if desired. (It's not a desire so much as, well, a routine. And besides, no one's home and I just become the biggest lollygagger on the face of the Earth if I stay at home so at least I get a 20-minute-each-way bike ride in.)

Day 926: The smell of science

Have you ever smelled the rain in a city? It hits you like a breath of fresh air. It's utterly undescribable, but very much understood when one mentions the smell of rain. The smell of science is something equally indescribable, but nowhere near as pleasant. Like the smell of rain, the scent is sharp. Like smelling peppers of any kind. It has the pungency of rotting wood, with none of the musk. It enters your nasal cavity like seeping fog. Slow. Permeating throughout your nasal cavity and sitting there. Covering every single nostril hair you have--ensuring the smell is inescapable. It's the smell of research. Progress.