Academic Emily Post

I have to drop off my dissertation with my fearsome advisor this afternoon. I had excellent plans of driving to his house, sneaking the copy onto his porch, and then roaring off without seeing him. He has haunted me the past few months, and his searing comments about my hapless prose have convinced me of my own mediocrity. I have a callous where my soul once lived, which should make my defense a cake walk, but could have repercussions for the rest of my life...

So I email him to warn him that the package is arriving this afternoon, and he says, "Why don't you ring the doorbell and say hi?"

Er...um...hmmmm....

Because I'd like to make you eat every page of my dissertation? With wasabi?

Because you frighten me?

Because I have a Pavlovian dork response to you? (even though I hate him, I find him exceedingly compelling--which is how this whole debacle started...lesson learned, universe! thanks!)

Because I feel certain you're going to make some sort of snarky comment like, "Should I even bother?" or "Is it worth reading now?", and I'll have to kill you with my bare hands and then go on the lam, living as a high-end call girl for Shakespeare fans?

There should be a script for these sorts of situations. I don't know whether to go looking like I've not slept in two weeks (the real me) or to put on some lipstick and fix my hair to show how capable I am in spite of it all. It's super muggy here today, too (I forget every year how craptastic DC is in the summer), so I'm going to be a shiny, damp vision regardless.