As I still suffer from the aftermath of that oyster adventure (or i got something more chronic, who knows) let me ask a question to my friends with the more useful variant of a doctor title: where do I get an adult sized incubator? A refurbished iron lung, perhaps. Something snuggly and warm.
While we are at it, can we all agree to make bathroom floors warm? Seems like a design flaw in that moment when there is not enough strength to remove ones head from the porcelain throne and crawl away. Not that I would not have been back every few minutes.
Also: My research group does incredible work. But some moments make me more proud than others. Like when they inherit just a little criminal energy. Standing at an airport, having to switch my sim card, I had to think of that wise council one of them gave me: go to the jeweler, and pretend to try out earrings. Those little pins are damned useful to get that tiny compartment open.
Love you all. Incredibly proud. Next I am going to teach you about Igusa zeta functions and how to topple a government using cherry-flavored cupcakes, a ballpoint pen and peppermint schnapps. But first something about stringy cohomology! 🥰🍒🖊🥃❤️

Ceterum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam.
