Too much stuff to do, too many papers on my desk that I’ve promised various persons I’ll read.  I am like a brief-writing cow that is being milked into submission.

These are the times when I wish I had a slave.  Someone from the serf-classes to order everything: IMMEDIATE ATTENTION REQUIRED / LOOK AT THIS BY END OF WEEK / MAKE EXCUSES FOR ANOTHER FORTNIGHT.  That kind of clear hierarchy.

Right now if I actually chilled the f*** out and took stock I know I’d have 5-6 totally do-able things on the IMMEDIATE LIST.  Why is that stressful?  Why is knowing what you have to do - or moreover the very idea of stopping and working out what is left to do - so unbelievably terrifying?