Writing is a dangerous sport

Yesterday I burnt down the Commons' Library, and today I'm doing the same with the Lords.  Actually, I've been on leave for the last five days (of nine), determined to get the first draft of the book ready for checking by the beginning of September. I've been working about ten hours a day, and now have a numb little finger in my left hand, caused - I think - by "ulnar nerve compression".  In other words, I've been leaning too hard on the table with my elbow, chin in hand, while I re-read drafts.  Other scrapes of the last five days include having to get a bald tyre replaced on the car on my way back from a research trip to the National Archives at Kew on Friday, and managing to spill an entire can of diet coke over myself in a moment of inattention.  Ho-hum.  Makes the fire seem like a picnic in comparison.