Whims Like Caffeine

There I was, gloomy, tired, and downcast, no inspiration daring enough to venture into the presence of my melancholy. My research paper just wasn't coming along. I needed to find certain statistics, not flattering to the current administrators of the university system. I did not lose faith, the fact that the opposition had published no statistics in favour of their position on the issue heartened me. But the total lack of evidence from the opposition did not necessarily mean that my needs would be fulfilled; the haughty poobahs of the arcane tower do not publish their research if it does not agree with that which they hoped to find.

But...

Even arcane poobahs slip up.

I caught a series of inconsistencies and hypocrisies that lend me all the munitions I require. I can finish my piece much stronger than I hoped to this morning.

Funny enough...

This revelation, this majestic Whim of Wit which shattered my uncertainty and gloom, struck me after hours of fruitless toil. Why did it wait so long? The answer is all to easy. I was gloomy and tired and utterly unappealing to any kind of whim; in a fog too deep for inspiration to find me. The whim came to me almost exactly five minutes after I finished consuming the first cup of a fresh pot of coffee. Coincidence, I think not.

The hard part is done and I just need to finish restructuring tomorrow.

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