Despite the graphic imagery of this expression, or perhaps because of it, I find this idiom really relatable. With to much on my plate I tend to run in aimless frantic circles and engage in small unsatisfying fragments of larger tasks. My thoughts blur into senseless strings of words, shrill mantras that sing at me through the day and awaken me at 2 am. It takes purposeful stern self guidance, me holding my own hand and patting myself repeatedly on my own shoulder to sew my head back on and focus on my feet. I struggle to take small deliberate steps with my eyes on a distant horizon instead of the whirling minutiae I am wading through.