Five thousand words

Ya that seems about right. Guess I am finished.

I should probably explain some.

1) I have something called "complete ventral occlusion with aggravation of the thecal sac". Don't know what it means either. But it applies to my S1 and L5 vertebrae. S1 is basically my pelvis. L5 is the next one up.

2) My right leg feels like it is on fire. All the time. Ok, not all the time - sometimes it feels like an explosion went off inside it.

3) Everything is a dare to me because I am emotionally immature.

4) Instead of writing my magnum opus "Everything About Rome: 300 000 BCE to the Present" I scaled my ambition down to a single building. 5000 very well chosen words.

5) I'm high on percocet all the time (see #2).

6) The words aren't that well chosen. But I have succeeded in not using the word "Fucker". As in "Look fucker, just take my fucking word for it - I know a lot about Rome!!!" (see #3)

7) I cannot bend forward; I'm not physically able to and I'm on Doctor's orders not to. Yet I insist on hand drawing everything for the thesis.

8) I'm counting on getting a lot of slack because, well, see #6 and imagine me, high off my ass, in the main lecture theater being told my work just didn't cut it.

To finish abruptly, I am writing the shortest thesis in W'loo history. And I'm going to dare my committee not to accept it.