Maybe they’re right.
A clone would be perfect. I’d assign my clone all the crappy jobs I have no interest in tackling, leaving me twice as much time to do what I want. For example:
Laundry: Mr. Samers job.
Remembering to write: Mr. Samers is in charge of Sticky Notes.
Watering the stupid plants: Mr. Samers can handle that.
Surfing the net: I’ll do that.
Vacuuming: Mr. Samers is all over that chore.
Tucking my kids in at night: That’s mine.
Showering: Mr. Samers can do that for the both of us, ’cause it takes too long and I get bored.
Working at my real work job: Mr. Samers has got that one, too.
Handling all the kids, including the dog’s, appointments and errands: Sounds like a Mr. Samers job.
Making sure all my shows are watched: I could probably squeeze that in.
Shopping: Mine if it’s fun shopping (it’s never fun shopping); Mr. Sammers if it’s the groceries.
Hanging out with my friends: I’ll do that.
Painting the house: Mr. Samers is probably really good at that stuff.
Decorating the sorely neglected house: I better take that one because I’m pretty picky and Mr. Samers seems like his sense of design is a little off.
Dropping off and picking up the kids before and after work: Mr. Samers, but I’ll need a current drivers’ abstract.
It all sounds divine. I’d have so much more free time. I could do what I love without having to do what I hate. I’d have time to do things slowly, with purpose. I could enjoy life, instead of trudging through it. Perhaps I’d have fewer “stress-induced muscle spasms“. Or maybe not.
So, I’m still here. But I’m here and here and I’ve been here a few times and I’m at work all day and I’m kid-wrangling in the evenings, so maybe I’m not here as often as I should be. But I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere. Not even if I get a clone.
But it makes me feel all girly, squishy, emotion-y that you noticed. I’ll try not to make it a habit.
(seriously – is there a clone store?)