Why is it that all things converge upon me whenever I agree to a tight deadline?
One week ago I accepted a new deadline for the filing of my Lizard case, this Monday Dec. 1st. I figured I could devote the week to research and writing, and with a little help from my family, get the complaint done with out killing myself. After all, I had a few models to follow, federal law to deal with, and others to review it once finished. Finally, I can always amend it later if I really, really have to.

So it began.

At first things were peachy. I read the case, researched some FWS publications, and got my mind around the issues. Then I got a sinus infection. I think. I still haven’t had time to visit the doctor to see.

Then Thanksgiving came along, and an old friend was in town so we threw him a little cocktail party.

A giant headache unlike nothing I have ever experienced before (and let me tell, after 21 years of migraines, I have had some doozys) beset me, along with intense sinus pressure and pain. I could barely stand to move, and I was staring at a bright screen for hours on end.

Monday came and Monkey began sniffling, coughing, and raising her internal temperature. Thus, she stayed home sick, adding another ball to juggle while I frantically composed analysis and argument.

However, she was just sick enough to get into trouble, ask for food or drink every 37 seconds, and generally cause a ruckus. Sadly this illness continued through Tuesday as well.

Otter began cutting another tooth, so he forewent solid foods and asked for milk, almost constantly, for four days straight. He also woke up several times a night, every night, and woke up before 6 a.m., pretty much guaranteeing that my brain turned to mush.

Then, two of my other cases had emergent issues arise, resulting in phone calls and work on those files. My contact for my CFI business saw me on Tuesday, which was wonderful, but which also cost several more hours of available work time.

I finished the complaint last night and emailed it off. Today I have to edit it. Tomorrow I plan to sleep for the whole friggin day.

There has to be some way to sneakily set aside time for emergency work. If I tell anyone, or act differently at all, the Universe seems to create a bavarian clusterfuck in my life.

I know, don’t tell me, it’s just another fucking growth opportunity.