I Need an Assistant

Verdict of the day: I need a personal assistant.

From the time I woke up (which, to be fair, wasn’t until 10am) until dinner, I was hard at work at my computer trying to hammer out the last of the edits, compilations, and articles for the Fall issue of Equestrian Vaulting, the American Vaulting Association’s quarterly publication. Of course, I complicate everything by being in the Danish time zone, working while my American writers sleep, sleeping while they work. It’s not exactly conducive to productivity. Not only that, but I swear the emails never stop for WEG paperwork. There’s always one more form to fill out, one more release to sign away. Not to mention the requests for interviews, finalizing travel plans, website updates, and more!

My life goal, which I have yet to accomplish, is to have an empty email inbox. If you know me, you know my workflow is such that my inbox is essentially my to do list. If an email remains in my inbox, it is only because I have to do something about it. Either I have to respond to the email (usually the simplest scenario) or I have to do something more complicated regarding the email, like pay a bill, design and finalize a uniform, or more relevant to my day today, edit a vaulting article for the magazine, locate applicable pictures from an album, request those pictures from the photographer, upload those pictures to an FTP site, and send off the article to layout.

I started my trip in Denmark with a pesky 55 emails, more than my little brain could handle. Tonight, before I head to bed, I’m down to 22. Still pathetic, but it’s the best I could do after 10 hours of work.

It’s a good thing I had a kick-ass vaulting practice with Uffe today. It allowed my body to do some work while my mind went into autopilot for an hour or so.  Without a workout, I know for sure I would be working until 4am, unable to sleep thanks to the foreboding list.

My poor MacBook Pro is officially making noises it has never made before. “I’m hot!” It’s screaming. “I’m tired and overworked.” Okay, little computer. Bedtime for you. And maybe for me, too.