As I was away for the weekend, I missed the three last prompts of Reverb10. Not to worry, though. I have answers.

Day 4. Wonder. How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?

Well, I am certainly not the kind of person who actively "cultivates a sense of wonder" in her life. Nevertheless, I danced and I traveled and both filled me with wonder so there's that.

Day 5. Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?

I am in the process of letting go of my Californian life. It is going mostly smoothly and painlessly, but there can be a few hiccups. I do appreciate the hiccups as signs that I was having a good time there, despite working very hard, despite the pressure, despite wanting to leave.

Day 6. Make. What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?

I made roasted cauliflower the other day. With a cauliflower and an oven. Oh, and some cumin, too.

The only thing I want to make right now is a Jewish apple cake. I am pretty sure I will be able to clear some time for it.

I'm thinking that either I or these prompts are boring. Quite possibly both. They certainly make me feel like I'm not spending enough time in hemp clothes, meditating in the pigeon pose, sipping wheat grass drinks, or getting in touch with my inner self.

It was only a few hours ago today that I was writing about "the possibility that I just find every single one of the next thirty prompts [of Reverb10] stupid". Well, instructions for Day Two are in and...

Writing. What do you do each day that doesn't contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it?

Alright, it's not so much stupid as irrelevant. Reverb10 is meant for serious writers, not occasional bloggers whimsically futzing around with words. Which well, yes, of course, as 750words is behind the initiative, and 750words, being aptly named, is all about making yourself write, write, write. And even though, as a scientist (currently trying to write an efficient short communication), writing, writing, writing is a big part of my job, I somewhat don't think I'm in the target audience for that prompt.

I've actually had to read a few contributions (following Twitter's hashtag #reverb10) to make sure that the question was meant to be understood as something like "what do you do each day that hurts your writing" and bring a reflection on the useless, counter-productive elements of one's daily routine or approach to writing. Of course, my current daily routine is filled with useless, counter-productive elements: isn't that the point of taking time off? As for my days before graduating... did you really think you can finish a dissertation without eliminating all the things that don't contribute to your research or writing that you can eliminate?

But truly, my first reaction was more along the lines of "what is this I don't even" and wondering why someone would think that doing things, even on a daily basis, that don't contribute to their main center of interest is a problem. I do tons of things each day that don't contribute to my writing (or my research), I thought. Because I am not completely obsessed with it yet.

The fact that I didn't even understand the question at first is probably a good indication that I shouldn't try to answer it. That say, I do have a short answer: brushing my teeth. And no, I cannot eliminate it.

That's how you have to feel, when you leave a place where you've been rather happy for the best of five years, for, as they say, bigger and better things. So here comes the mandatory reflections well known of other expats all across the world, on having stretched your heart between two countries (or, in my case, two continents separated by the Atlantic Ocean — yes, I've been watching Eddie Izzard again.)

People have been lovely to me. They've certainly conveyed the message that they were sad about my leaving. (In some cases, jealousy might be involved. Cue the labmate who tells me "You guys are all moving away! I'm left behind on the fucking West Coast! I want to go back to Boston!") Since my final defense, I've barely had an evening on my own, and people have been wonderful at helping me having a fantastic time. It's been a whirlwind of celebratory and goodbye lunches, dinners, dancing (and when all the best dancers on the floor come ask you for a farewell dance, it would be hard not to be on cloud nine), bowling...

What else is there to add to this title?

Two words for you: impostor syndrome. I am amazed by the number of people I have fooled into believing I am competent, especially among my labmates. "Oh, don't worry, you know all that," concludes my closest collaborator while my mind freezes, trying to grapple pieces of information about "all that" among the pitiful danger signals sent by my panicked brain.

Also, I have the self-confidence of an abused whippet, as best illustrated by my sheer delight at each of the guests who confirms their presence to the goodbye and celebration/commiseration party I am planning for a few days after I defend. People I call friends want to come drink sparkling wine with me before I leave the continent! Hold the presses! I am still not getting over the fact that one of them is postponing a trip to Texas by a day to attend.

And mostly, I am too busy wondering what kind of tricky questions I will be asked on my defense to take the time to write anything more.