(the title refers not to this —although you might be forgiven for thinking so—but to this. In case you wondered.)
If you follow the instructions,
you might get decent status.
Even if you don’t, yesterday I split my HEKs for the last time.
That’s these guys. Can you see them?
Course not. They’re not in there yet. Let’s have a look through the square window:
And today I performed my last (ever, probably) transfection.
Tomorrow, or maybe Thursday, I’ll fix them in 3% paraformaldehyde (made fresh, in PBS: with 2% sucrose) and look at them under the fluorescent microscope. If it’s working.
Hopefully that will make Liza happy.
sniff. Now I’m going to cry.
It is a bitter sweet feeling when leaving a place. I was happy to collect my last set of postdoc data, but sad to leave. Must be strange knowing that you’re going to something so different.
Oh man, stop doing this. [chants] I’m happy I’m done, I’m happy I’m done, I’m happy I’m done.
Don’t go posting blog posts that make me think I miss the lab. It all looks so much like the stuff I did! My last transfection was in chamber slides, though. Much easier than cover slips. (I assume you have cover slips in there? Although you can use microscopes with 6-well plates.)
Richard, I hadn’t realized that you had bee working on mouthwash all these years.
Old cell biologists never die. They just become uncultured. Old palaeontologists, on the other hand, make no bones about such things.
Eva – Richard’s problem is that he still likes doing lab work. I avoided all such sentimentality by becoming heartily sick of it long before my postdoc ended.
Hm, long before grad school ended, probably.
Hahha. I think Winty has it. Henry, that’s funny. I might steal it. Eva, yes it’s on coverslips. If the expt works I’ll post some photos. Katherine, it’s very strange: I’ve never felt like this after leaving a place.
Bob. You’re silly.
Did you split them light (as if someone will be dealing with them on Friday for the weekend) or heavy (as if someone, one day, might possibly want to carry them on in perpetuity)?
I’m guessing 1:30.
Naw, normal (1 in 10). If student wants them she can have them—otherwise she’ll thaw some when she does.
If I split my cells 1:10 they’d be confluent in five minutes.
Well, that’s because you use nasty cells.
Henry: groan
Richard: My cells prefer about 1:3. They’re rather timid primary cells, slow dividers and are suburbanites – not too dense, not too sparse, and with lots of potential. Rather like their caretaker.
I think you’re just lovely, Heather.
Y’all dissing my cells? But they’re so pretty.
Richard, why are they growing at 36 instead of 37?
’cos the door was open…
Um—hit and run? You OK?
Fine. Not bodily damage, just car damage and a fair bit of lost time. I can even still drive my car.
Oh, good—you had me worried for a moment.