As I sat staring helplessly at my computer tonight, I realized that the reason my brain races at 300mph is because I have way too much to do. Too much to worry about.

The best way for me to get it all done would be to clone myself. This is my official decision. I am now looking for volunteers from the medical field to participate in this wild experiment with me. I need someone willing to take on the task of cloning me, in my entirety. The clone only needs to last around a week, and needs to be fatigue-free. That way, perhaps some of this miscellany could be accomplished. After all, who the hell has time to do it, when they also have to run a failing business and somehow find time to attempt to sleep?

• 
  Move nearly 800 entries to .txt format for my big site revamp
  


• 
  Find 20-ish good journals to invite to RF (and big fat good luck)
  


• 
  Finish stripping the deck railings
  


• 
  Finish sanding the deck railings
  


• 
  Finish staining the entire deck (ability to see in the dark would be helpful)
  


• 
  “Close” down the pool, which was never officially “closed” last winter, due to a lack of funds as well as a sand filter which now shoots sand through the refresh tube thingy and into my pool. (I’m waiting for the CDC in Atlanta to declare my backyard the official origin of We$t Nile Viru$.)
  


• 
  Drag the old water heater (circa 2000) out of my laundry room in the basement and into the front yard - oh, and call the trash company to have them come pick it up
  


• 
  The clone would need to sell her body for money, too, since I am forbidden by my firm to take on a second job
  


• 
  Write the “boarder wanted” ad for the local Seminary (like hell I’d invite a girl who believes in premarital sex into my basement at this point in my life.)
  


• 
  Mow the front lawn (a chore ranking right up there with ripping my toenails off as fun thing to do)
  


• 
  Clean the den (which used to be my sanctuary, and has now become a place where unfiled yet important papers and dust bunnies come to die)
  


• 
  Actually, clean the entire house (which is so embarrassingly messy I can’t even stand to be in it)
  


• 
  Balance my checkbook (ha, ha) (Especially since I was just alerted to the fact that my Compliance Department considers bouncing a check to be the regulatory equivalent of declaring bankruptcy)
  


• 
  Create and freeze some decent large-portioned meals for myself and Justin (as the boy continues to eat both his portion and my portion of every dinner I make)
  


• 
  Go to the doctor for me, to figure out why I have a constantly-sore throat for seemingly no reason at all
  


• 
  Create my birthday wish list (even though I don’t really know if I’ll actually receive any gifts this year, all things considered)
  


• 
  Attend my counseling appointments (because all they do is mess with my day)
  


• 
  Wash Bayliss, cut his hair, and trim his nails
  


• 
  Go grocery shopping
  


• 
  Oh yeah, sell her body again to pay for the groceries
  

Sometimes I wonder when my poor brain will decide it’s had enough of the stress. I mean, this is only the miscellaneous crap I need to do. This doesn’t cover any of the really important things.

I either need to marry some guy for his money (and right now), or find another job where I: 1) receive a salary, and 2) am allowed to consider the time between 5pm and 8am my own. I’m seriously considering selling my piece-of-shit too-damned-expensive Miata and putting my resume back up on Mon$ter.com. This is for the birds.

Experiencing maximum stress,

michelle