Okay, I’ve had it.  I need a full household staff.  How did we get away from this?  I can live without a lady’s maid, and I’m sure Steve will get by without a valet (say val-et, please, as if you were British), but honestly there’s just too much to do to not have a butler, cook, and downstairs maid.  I need to:

paint the dining room

hang shelves in said dining room

paint upstairs bathroom

will upstairs bathroom sink into functioning, even though it has been clogged solid shut since two weeks after we moved in here, 4 and half years ago.

retile upstairs bathroom floor in something that does not look as if it has muddy paw prints all over it 15 seconds after it is mopped (slaughtering the cats might help with that, too.  Maybe I need a butcher)

mop all the floors

refininsh all the floors

clean rooms (as if)

go through hellish cave of horrors basement and toss at least 1/3 of its contents

practice yoga more than once a month

sew some more product for my shop which no one ever buys from so what’s the damned point anyway?

read the huge stack of books I need/want to read

learn to knit

watch the Rachel Zoe Project

watch the Vicar of Dibley reunion shows I got from the library

clean animal cages

create Small Angels Rescue products for CafePress or Zazzle site

take a picture of my bedroom so that you can see how very, very badly I need staff.

This is not to mention even the laundry, cooking, and general tidying that really should be done every day but cannot b/c of my rigorous blogging schedule.  So if you have Irish immigrant relatives who are looking for work and won’t mind sleeping in my leaky garage…and won’t mind the fact that I cannot pay them…ship them over.  I’m drowning here.  I barely have time to feel stressed about my impending middle age (I’m working it in though, don’t fret).  Baring that, send Xanax.