Daytime. Interior light. A molecular biology laboratory.
DOCTOR: Do you like madeleines?
ARCHDUCHESS: Of course! (Sighs wistfully) I haven't had a decent one in a whole year, though. The fine art of bakery is lost on Americans.
D: Well then. C'mere. (They move to the hallway. DOCTOR hands ARCHDUCHESS a lemon madeleine from a paper bag and takes one for himself.)
A: (Eating madeleine) This is delicious.
D: Of course, I'm only giving this to you for a reason.
A: (Mouth is full, spews crumbs) Fwatza reefon?
D: (Sighs) I've got bad news for you.
A: (Lifts eyebrow) What's the news?
D: You know the PCR you've been working on? [Ed. note: PCR is a very, very long and rather complicated process, not to mention that you have to get everything juuuust right for it to work. There are usually several small altars to the PCR gods located around the campus every research University fit to claim the title.] The one that didn't work yesterday and that you attempted to optimize and redo this morning, three hours ago? (ARCHDUCHESS nods) Well, I gave you the wrong primer. (ARCHDUCHESS' heart stops) I... I designed it wrong.
A: What happened?
D: I forgot to flip the sequence. You have a tube full of junk that doesn't match your DNA.
A: (Life flashing before her eyes) What now?
D: I ordered some new ones. They should be here next week.
A: (Somberly) More vacation time for me, I suppose.
D: Actually, you should get working on that parallel project, in the meantime.
***
Sooooo, that's about 36 hours of my life down the metaphorical drain (metaphorical because the result of those 36 hours is technically a biohazard, so it's in a -20°C freezer and not a sink, which is fortunate).
But all's not lost.
In any case, I got practice out of it, didn't I? And a really good madeleine. And I saved my cultures by refrigerating them a day early by coming in today.
Stuff happens. In any case, it ended up being a good Friday, so I shan't complain (too much).
DOCTOR: Do you like madeleines?
ARCHDUCHESS: Of course! (Sighs wistfully) I haven't had a decent one in a whole year, though. The fine art of bakery is lost on Americans.
D: Well then. C'mere. (They move to the hallway. DOCTOR hands ARCHDUCHESS a lemon madeleine from a paper bag and takes one for himself.)
A: (Eating madeleine) This is delicious.
D: Of course, I'm only giving this to you for a reason.
A: (Mouth is full, spews crumbs) Fwatza reefon?
D: (Sighs) I've got bad news for you.
A: (Lifts eyebrow) What's the news?
D: You know the PCR you've been working on? [Ed. note: PCR is a very, very long and rather complicated process, not to mention that you have to get everything juuuust right for it to work. There are usually several small altars to the PCR gods located around the campus every research University fit to claim the title.] The one that didn't work yesterday and that you attempted to optimize and redo this morning, three hours ago? (ARCHDUCHESS nods) Well, I gave you the wrong primer. (ARCHDUCHESS' heart stops) I... I designed it wrong.
A: What happened?
D: I forgot to flip the sequence. You have a tube full of junk that doesn't match your DNA.
A: (Life flashing before her eyes) What now?
D: I ordered some new ones. They should be here next week.
A: (Somberly) More vacation time for me, I suppose.
D: Actually, you should get working on that parallel project, in the meantime.
***
Sooooo, that's about 36 hours of my life down the metaphorical drain (metaphorical because the result of those 36 hours is technically a biohazard, so it's in a -20°C freezer and not a sink, which is fortunate).
But all's not lost.
In any case, I got practice out of it, didn't I? And a really good madeleine. And I saved my cultures by refrigerating them a day early by coming in today.
Stuff happens. In any case, it ended up being a good Friday, so I shan't complain (too much).
2 comments:
By the time I have reached my age I have just about learned to say 'Stuff happens'. To be able to say it at your age is a marvellous tribute to your maturity. (Hope that doesn't sound too condescending.) Fingers crossed - and a little flower laid at the altar - for the next PCR.
Perhaps not the best of days but, hey, wotthehellarchiewotthehell, I was delighted to see that you played the Glad Game and, after all, you're still around to have another try and 36 hours is a wee speck in the ocean of life. And don't you just hate people who can say these things because it's not them who have just had the 'stuff'. Scriptor's correct though. At your age I certainly wouldn't have been so sanguine about it. I wish that I'd had your attitude then.
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