All a girl needs

I'm drowning in admin.

For the first time in three weeks I have the courage to say I have a problem, and I need help.

My desk is littered with yellow post-it notes, all with different to do lists scribbled on them. I need to call a good friend whose birthday was on the 4th of March. I have to return at least four important phone calls, all outstanding for more than a month. I'm not even mentioning the number of personal e-mails I have to respond to - all carefully written down on one of my collection of to do lists. (That excludes the really important ones that make it to my diary. Of course, on a weekly basis I simply move them on to next week.)

I'm still stuck on week 4 of a 12 week exercise programme, though the rest of the country has moved on to week 7.

I need to find out whether SARS ever received my tax return, I must send a bill for some freelance work I did in January and phone my former gym (again) because they're still deducting money from my account, even though I've sent a gazillion e-mails and faxes and left at least a hundred messages. I need to pay my bills that were due at the beginning of the month. I have to phone flightcentre and see if they're on schedule to pay back a cancelled plane ticket. (They said it would take 3 months... but then I should probably be preparing for 6?)

I have to pay two speedfines (outstanding since August) before they lock me up at Hillbrow police station. Cecilia, my former landlady's spy, called me a week ago to pick up some urgent post - still on list 3 of 7. My car has been cutting out at every single robot since December. I've taken it in five times, and it is still broken. To add to my car miseries, my new neighbour broke off the sideview mirror 2 weeks ago.

On my desk I have two baskets filled with research reports, documents, print-outs, old newspapers and magazines - all waiting for that follow-up story that needs to be written. I have an e-mail folder named work: keep, that I haven't touched in 3 months, except to dump more e-mails in it in a futile attempt to keep my inbox under control. I run my contact list from two croxley address books, two folders and a plastic container filled with business cards. I also have some printouts with random names and numbers stuck against the wall. I've been meaning to convert this - the lifeblood of my career - to electronic format for the past year. Alas.

I've always thought all a girl needs is a good mechanic. (And a handyman boyfriend, if you can find one that's also a great kisser and a fabulous cook.)

Now I know you can't go through life without a sideview mirror and a great personal assistant.