How do I torture myself? Let me count the ways. (Apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning)

Following a good night’s rest, on the day after the submission of a proposal — which I feverishly tried to polish while racing the clock to the deadline after a night with 2 hours of sleeplike rest in my office chair — I read through the whole document and marked all the typos. And there were some, even though I had read and read and read through the proposal before the submission, annoying my grant admin into a hot fury because I had made her wait till lunch for my materials. (Somewhere, there is a voodoo doll with my face on it. The doll got three new needles in its head yesterday, and I know exactly whose hands placed them there, for I had a migraine all afternoon.)