44 hours and counting

Everyone says to treat grad school like a job. But this is the worst job in the world. I'm sleeping in 4 hour increments. I'm going to sleep starving because I don't want to eat at 4 am. I also haven't had time to buy groceries. My garbage cans are all overflowing because I'm not home at a reasonable hour to shove it down the garbage chute. I haven't run the dishwasher in weeks but the dishes are slowly piling up, one cup at a time. I don't think I can handle an entire summer of this. I need to borrow a husband to take care of the blue jobs. Preferably a sugar daddy who can replace the two pairs of jeans I can no longer wear as of yesterday. Both of them have identical holes in the crotch. Holes I made from squatting under the millipore dispenser to refill the carboys, from having to sit at a lab bench which has no knee room, from refusing to wear my stretch jeans because I hate the way they cling to my ass and thighs and cut my digestive tract in half when I'm sitting down. Ick, stretch.