I need an Adele. Y'know, the mousy young thing working for whack-job Jenny on the L-Word.
Yes, I realize any day now she'll be revealed as a stalker, or worse. So I'll rescind my request at that time. But today, this week, this month, I need a personal assistant.
To do all those things I can't seem to get to, that I wouldn't dream of asking my gf to do :), or, admittedly, some I just don't want to do.
This week's list:
1) drycleaning drop off
2) schedule carpet cleaning appointment
3) re-schedule dentist appointment (for the third time)
4) airline reservations (we ARE going on vacation, dammit!)
5) reschedule tax appointment
6) plan a romantic valentine, inclusive of hand-made card, dinner, etc.
7) call my cousin and catch up
9) get painter estimate
10) figure out exactly what the dog has been eating to cause such... flatulence
11) buy the next book for the book group i'm trying out... Eat Pray Love (hello, Amazon???)
12) turn in my expense report and recoup cost of last week's Florida trip before bill arrives
13) give Rita aesthetic input on a new blog template. (uhm, I'm a bit picky and she did ask
These join some three digital pages worth of work tasks I could probably pawn off as well.
C'mon, Adele was hanging lights for a party and attending a table read for the movie her boss is directing... I'm not directing any movies, yet, but I'm pretty sure I could keep her equally busy.
And without an assistant, how can I possibly continue to make time for primary watching, blog reading and analysis of the Super Bowl ads. (The dalmation and clydesdale spoke to our collective desire to root for the underdog... and it worked!)
I don't know how one person, with NO CHILDREN of the two-legged variety, can get so bogged down and overwhelmed. There are no excuses.
'Course, my little problem with procrastination may have something to do with it. I'm blogging. Not working.