Upon awakening this morning, Ryan was greeted by an e-mail stating that a review paper he’d written was accepted for publication, which is like a really, really, really big honor. But, as with most of his academic life, my husband only celebrates his accomplishments for about 5 minutes.
During the sixth minute he starts to think that maybe it wasn’t as big of a deal as he’d originally thought.
During the seventh minute he decides that if he accomplished it, it must not have been too hard.
The eighth minute is when he wishes his parents weren’t dead so that he could call and tell them what a sort-of-big-deal-but-not-really this is.
The ninth minute he starts worrying about the next project or deadline in front of him and has completely forgotten said accomplishment.
Two hours later, if you bring it up to him, he just says, “Huh? Oh that. Yeah, that was good. What do you want to do for dinner?”
He’s endearingly modest, but every now and then I wish he’d celebrate himself a bit more. Perhaps, with the help of something like this: