"So how does it feel?" they ask. Well, not really any different, except for the relief. Still, there are signs.

  • My labmates call me doctor. Which is rather ridiculous. Except for the fact that I did the same with every single person who graduated from this lab before me. So I guess this is normal. Plus it's at best followed by my first name.
  • There is champagne in my fridge. Not cava or prosecco or any of these less-than-six-dollars bottles of bubbly. Real champagne.
  • There are flowers I didn't buy on my dining table. They are gorgeous.
  • Mah phone. It keeps a-ringing. Same with Facebook, Twitter, and the blog's comment feed, if they had a ring tone.
  • "Congratulations!" people yell when they see me, just before hugging me and asking when they can buy me a drink. Well take a ticket dear, because there's only so much booze I can ingest per night. (And it is, by many people's standards, quite a small quantity. What can I say, I'm a cheap date. Especially as I insist to pay every other time.)