Flogging a dubious metaphor

For the past few hours I've been working on the introductory chapter of my dissertation proposal. This is the chapter that contains obtuse subheadings, like... Theoretical Framework. When I see the word framework, I think of furniture, like folding screens and wooden headboards. Scaffolding. Shelves. Say, have I mentioned my DIY shelving? I have shelves on virtually every wall in my dinky apartment, in line with the theory that the floor looks bigger if everything is stored overhead.

I digress. Or do I?

I'm building the literary equivalent of shelving. I'm scaffolding my argument. I'm assembling pipes and planks to support my topic and justify my method and design. Ho hum. I suddenly felt my brain slipping away. Flogging a dubious metaphor makes me tired. I'm sure you have already gone to the refrigerator.

Anyway, I am making progress, slow and steady. There's no race to win, you know. We are all winners in the human race. Whatever, it's a nice idea, even if it doesn't feel much like I'm winning most of the time. What is winning, anyhow? One of those mysteries of life, right up there with why men spit. I would define winning as success on my terms, I guess, although I don't always know what my terms are. In other words, I don't always know what I want. I say I want one thing, but my actions say I apparently want something else.

Right now, I want to stop typing and make tracks to the refrigerator. Not that there is anything comforting in there: zucchini, collard greens, eggs.... tomorrow's breakfast. Hey, I know what I want. I want all the things that used to comfort me to comfort me again: I'm talking about food, money, and love. It irks me that these things, once so comforting, in excess and mishandled now just make me feel worse. What gives? Is it no longer true that if one is good, two is better? Does it no longer hold that bigger is better, nower is wower, whiter is righter? Wha—? Well, whatever. Do you get my drift? Probably not. I'm having trouble focusing. It's late. Tomorrow morning comes too soon. Sleep is my last refuge, and that is where I am headed.