Self-employed and on the juice

Contrary to any wild delusions that absolutely no-one is harbouring, taking a morning cocktail of hormones is nowhere near as fun as, say, taking a morning cocktail of the usual variety.

Mimosa? Fine. Whiskey sour? At least it’s bracing. Lupron and Gonal-F? Definitely not tempting.

I reckon the impact would be about the same, though. At the current tally, I have:

• Missed one meeting because I went to the wrong building
• Lost 2.5 days (and counting) of productivity to glazed-eyed staring at the wall/ceiling/TV/back of my eyelids.
• Blankly wandered the streets for half an hour because I couldn’t decide from which coffee shop to get my morning brew.
• Had my journalism students call me out on factual errors in the news quiz I assign each week. (Media Culpa indeed!)
• Spent an entire morning eating chocolate brownies.

The brutal thing about it is, I would have been much the same if I WAS having a morning tipple instead of a morning jab.

The upshot? If this whole Project Pretzel thing doesn’t work, I hereby pledge to give myself free reign over the A.M. liquor cabinet for a week, just because no-one will notice the difference….

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