In ancient greek, the perfect tense has a morphological quirk called "reduplication" whereby the initial consonant of a verb gets repeated. The favorite paradigm verb, luô (I loosen), in perfect tense becomes leluka. When my greek professor introduced this to oddity to my class years ago, he was inspired to package it with an old familiar joke about how reduplication as a term belongs in the department of redundancy department. Ha. Ha.
I have since personally adopted the term to indicate unnecessary--annoyingly redundant--duplication, and today I had to reduplicate my own labor. Twice. The results weren't nearly as amusing as my former professor's jokes. I spent 2.5 hours this morning going through a piece of my advisee's writing, providing copious marginal comments using Word's insert comment feature. But when I went to print the piece with comments--there were more than 70 in all (it was a long piece in a relatively early stage)--the comments were no longer there. I must have committed an egregious saving error without even realizing it. And so this afternoon I have begun the process of rewriting the comments.
I took a break from rewriting the comments to start some pizza dough, combining yeast and flour and honey with hot water and while that activated I started cleaning up the kitchen. About 10 minutes in, while cleaning, I knocked the bowl off the counter and had to clean the counter and floor again, in addition to starting the yeast anew. Now that's reduplication.