How can there be so much to say and so little at the same time? In the time I’ve been away I have lost a laptop, gained a year, put on a dance show, held down a job (in the loosest sense of the word), fought and made up, and finished a clerkship. It feels like so much has happened, but so much of it was little more than everyday detail.

Losing a laptop was the main reason for my absence. Or maybe I’m just hiding behind that excuse because I’m so utterly terrible at managing my time. It’s a toss-up, but I’m leaning towards poor time management because last night I finished off the last season of Doctor Who instead of studying for my exam next week. The trend continues.

My laptop screen just died, the kind of sudden unexpected and totally crippling death typical of myocardial infarctions or CVAs and since it was basically on life support to begin with I (very reluctantly) pulled the plug and ordered a brand new (smaller!) version of essentially the same laptop. Despite my admittedly sketchy history with Acer products I believe in sticking to the devils I know . The new laptop is super light but my fingers keep tripping over themselves. There isn’t enough room to swing a Kneazle on this keyboard.

While on hiatus I also celebrated my birthday, through various meanings of the word ‘celebrate’. The actual day was spent immersed in housework including the deliciously enviable task of baking brownies but also including the shudderingly* unenviable task of scrubbing my shower. The next day some of my friends threw a potluck with card games and wine. Despite not having acquired the taste I’m coming to the conclusion that wine makes everything better. On my third night of celebrations I went out with other friends to suffer through bad rum cream and snail pace service (thanks a lot, Mayfair Hotel).

Before all of that happened (much like my skills with time management, I am terrible at chronology) I slogged through my Obstetrics & Gynaecology clerkship, sprinting across the finish line like the hounds of hell were after me. Which they were. And by hounds of hell, I mean vaginas**. My biggest regret about the medical profession is the constant risk of exposure to other women’s lady parts. And that’s saying a lot.

It doesn’t sound like much to talk about it, but whilst I was in the middle of everything it felt like an awful lot was happening to me because I was so busy. But I was probably only busy because of the time management issues.

So we’ve come full circle.

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*(Shudderingly is totally a word, spellcheck!)

**(Really, spellcheck, how is vaginas not a word? What do you think it is, vaginae? Holy crap, it is vaginae.)