It's My Move...Again  

Just when I thought I've had enough of the upheaval that is my life, I decided I wanted to throw more chaos into the mix.

Who cares that the summer mid-terms are coming, right? And who cares that I am sleeping less this summer (when I thought things would be more relaxed, when I would be "chill" since I passed my boards, when I thought the hardest part is over) than I used to sleep last semester (which was the most harrowing semester of my life, to date).

Just when I started counting down the days to my 2009 graduation, our program director decides throw me a curve ball.

Program Director: (Intercepts me in the clinics) Do you have a minute?

Me: Oh, for you, Dr. ______, I have TWO minutes (which was all I could spare, really, since clinics were so busy that day).

Program Director: How do you feel about a Ph. D.?

Me: (My mouth drops open) No, thank you, Dr. _______.

Program Director: I had a meeting with Dr. ________ (the DIRECTOR-DIRECTOR), and he might be able to get a grant for you to get a Ph. D...

Me: (Still sputtering) No, Dr. ________... I really can't... I... thank you for even considering me... I'm not getting any younger... I am 28 years old... thank you (I think I just proved my point that I am not a good Ph. D. candidate. I couldn't even manage a firm but polite refusal. Now, imagine me defending my disseration -- amazing, I'm sure).

The end result: Program Director managed to get me to agree (no, promise) to set up a meeting with THE DIRECTOR-DIRECTOR himself, just to find out "what I'm turning down."

Gahd. When did I turn into such a wuss?

I am flattered -- make that honored -- that they would think I'm Ph. D. material. Out of the 80 residents in the building, they offered me a chance for a Ph. D.

It is a really good opportunity. But didn't I just start counting down to my graduation, and to "No more classes, no more books, no more teachers' dirty looks?"

To be considering a Ph. D. at this time is insane.

Nice curveball, Dr. _________.

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Twenty-four hours later, my roommate was telling me she is going to cut the cable TV and phone service we have, because "we're trying to cut costs...M (our other roommate) is moving...and we're trying to survive until December..."

At least, that was what I understood. In my head, all I was hearing was, "No cable? How will I study? No phone? How will I call Canada and not be charged exorbitant fees?"

"...And if you wanted to keep those services, you will just have to pay for them yourself."

"...Oh, and we have to give back the cable box on Monday. Since I am leaving on Wednesday, or else the new billing cycle will start..."

Did I mention that this happened on a Friday, at 5:00pm? I had less than 72 hours to decide if I could live without my cable (goodbye, "Next Food Network Star"), and less than 24 hours to see if I can get a cable guy to install the cable and phone service to my room to avoid service interruption.

I am flabbergasted, because a few weeks ago, she talked to me about increasing the rent by around 12%.

It's time to make my move...and my move is to blog about it, instead of frantically trying to wheedle the cable company to make their home visit to our house to install cable in my room on Monday.

Go figure.