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One of my good friends emailed this to me recently:

“You seem to get more done than is a) humanely possible b) what anyone else is capable of getting done.”

I’m glad that I’m able to perpetuate this illusion but, in reality, I don’t think I get any more done than she or anyone else does. In fact, I’m often awed by all my friend gets done. She has all of the job responsibilities that I do, plus she has three more kids than I do.

How much we do or don’t do in a given day is really a matter of perception. We all have the same number of hours to work with. So the real question is this: Are you happy with how you spend your hours?

My days feel busy to me, and I do get a lot done during my waking moments. And right now I have a lot to show for it all. I wrote a book that will come out this December. I’m in the midst of the media campaign that will hopefully trigger every single unhappily married person in America (and even a few folks who aren’t married) to buy and read it. I’m writing another book. I have other paying work, too.

And I’ve been able to do all of this without working totally insane hours. (Full disclosure: I am working 6 days a week until book release.) My kid still calls me Mommy, and not “that woman over there at the computer.” And I do happen to remember the last time I had sex with my husband. It was a wonderful experience that I hope to repeat at some point in the next few hours.

And I even read a novel last month. (It was Olive Kitteridge. I highly recommend it). And I exercise somewhat regularly, although not as often as I’d like. I also meditate.

But there’s a lot that isn’t getting done.

Like cooking. I ate oatmeal and cheese slices for dinner tonight.

And cleaning. If mold isn’t growing on it, I’m not concerned.

And check book reconciling. Does anyone do this? Really? I want to know.

And I don’t see my friends as often as I once did. And I don’t attend book club regularly. And I don’t return all of the phone calls that come in. The same is true for email. I don’t watch a heck of a lot of TV. I don’t keep up with current events.

I rarely know what’s going on in the world.

I don’t play mafia wars and other games on Facebook, and when people invite me to play such games, I ignore them.

My dog usually stinks. And his nails need a trim.

Seriously, I manage to juggle so much because most of the balls I used to juggle are really sitting on a shelf—and they are getting dusty.

I can’t keep all of the balls in the air.

I once tried to do just that. I managed to juggle all of the balls by keeping one important ball on the shelf. It was sleep.

Let me tell you folks: you can only not sleep for so long. Eventually this strategy will turn you into a Mean Mommy and Even Meaner Wife Who Can’t For the Life Of Her Remember Where Her Purse Is.

Are you the woman I just described (or the man)? If you are, think about putting down one of the other balls, and pick up the sleep ball instead.

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