I have just sent my sister this text message: "Masters is HORRIBLE. I don't know how you got through a PhD. I just feel so stupid!"
She replied: "You've made it. That's the whole objective."
Why, why, didn't I become a florist? It was a perfectly reasonable fantasy. No, I had to do the "sensible" thing and come to university.
Meanwhile, I am drowning my sorrows in:
wine and Whittaker's hazelnut chocolate;
It wasn't supposed to get burnt but it still tasted goooood, and made me feel slightly better.