People react to stress differently. Some turn to smoking, some to alcohol, some people bang like jackrabbits on Viagra, while some turn to faith. Me, I just grow facial hair. Something Kristin isn't too pleased at. But, being as supportive and understanding as she is, she's letting me be, just as long as I don't scratch her face. Though I suspect she'll make me shave immediately after the exams.
The last time I did this was in April 2006. Don't ask me why; I just stop shaving my chin. Perhaps it's the comfort of having something to scratch when I'm thinking.
My study room wall's all pasted with notes. From the Fredrickson classification of hyperlipidemia, to the Wolf-Chaikoff effect, to UKPDS and DCCT to thyroid cancer to the differential diagnosis of a hairy pregnant woman (cause of the hairiness, that is. We all know what causes the pregnancy part). I leave for Minneapolis in an hour (the exam's an hour and half away so I'm not taking chances and will be staying in a hotel there tonight). And, being as anal as I am, believe it or not I'm carting all my wall post-it notes along, all conveniently stuck to a large piece of paper that I'll simply roll up.
Well, folks, this is it. $1675 and 630 minutes of pure exam bliss; Wish me luck.