This shouldn't surprise me, seeing as how Murphy's Law lately has had greater applications in my life than Newton's law of universal gravitation.
Staying up until 2AM the other night to finish a book as a way to assert my control over life's little insanities was not a good idea. Life dished it right back to me: I've had a low-grade fever ever since. I felt mostly OK, just a little tired, until yesterday when tired snowballed into "leave me a lone, a freight train just hit me" exhausted. And I seem to be working up to that level again today. Meanwhile, I have a deadline for my RWA chapter today/tomorrow and, oh yeah, there's that silly novella I'd like to finish revising so I can beat my head against a wall about the synopsis sometime before that project's Jan 13th deadline.
I'm off to see if a shower with one of my perkier scented body washes can invigorate me a tad more. Then I shall bury myself in my office and finish PPR and type in my changes. I will be working on the synopsis tomorrow. So take that, Life.