Listened to hours of DNA testimony during a capital murder trial while arranging for someone to pick up my kids from school because the districts freaked out over stupid snow that was melting upon hitting the pavement AND emailing frantically with my Brownie troop co-leader over how to collect and input hundreds upon hundreds of orders of Girl Scout cookies.
And just as I was patting myself on the back tonight for my juggling prowess, I got a call from the copy desk with a very legitimate question about a paragraph in my story. It was a matter of using the wrong word, which was corrected in time for most editions of the newspaper — except for the one that will be landing on doorsteps in the county in which the trial is being held.
Ugh. The humiliation.