I think that’s the word to describe when you fall apart because you’re so danged tired. I shaved the top off my right middle fingernail this morning in the shower due to lack of inattention– fortunately, I missed the top of my finger through sheer luck. I then worked a half a day, taking a deposition and responding to the most urgent emails. At 12:30, I was feeling crushed beneath my still-stiff-and-painful neck and arm (although there’s finally been some movement on that front, more later), and gave up the ghost and came home, banishing this week’s four not-yet-dictated deposition notes to the depths of my bag, hopefully to work on them later. (Yeah, right. They may be billable, but I don’t exactly bound out of bed on Saturday morning thinking, “wahoo, dictation!!!”) I stopped for groceries, puttered and swiffered a bit, and laid down on the bed, with the fan going (cool all summer and NOW it’s 90 degrees?!?) and promptly conked out for four hours. My neck felt a lot better, but my head and elbow still hurt, so I slowly worked my way out of bed.
As I was putting dinner together, I dropped two bowls from my bad (and dominant hand), but managed not to break anything. I then grated the rest of my right middle fingernail off while grating some ginger on one of my assortment of microplane graters. So that makes three klutz incidents for the day, from which I emerged unscathed but for my already-nonexistent manicure. I should go skydiving tonight, since my luck’s holding out.