So, one of my colleagues stops me in the hall. She asks me if my tenure and promotions packets are identical.

I say yes, and she responds that she is the head of my tenure committee, and that she was hoping they were, because she hadn't realized that they had to meet and make a decision next week, and this would make it easier to share the information with other committee members.

I know she was being friendly. And I know she had to get that question answered. But I HAD successfully repressed the thought that next week was my tenure decision, until she asked me that question.

What this does is reactivate the demon that sits on my shoulder. I had successfully anesthetized it before. It sits on my shoulder and whispers in my ear. Either it says "you're not good enough, you know. You should have been working on research all those weekends you took off. {N.B. About one weekend in eight}. You will live to regret all those evenings you went home and knitted instead of sat in your office and worked." Or else it says: "just imagine what will happen if you don't get tenure - you won't have a job! In this academic market, you probably won't be able to get a job - maybe EVER AGAIN! You will probably wind up teaching night school and living in your parents' basement! Ah ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha!" (my inner demon laughs just like Mandark on "Dexter's Laboratory").

Ugh.

Next week sometime, I will either have something very good or very bad to report here. You will probably be among the first to know.