From time to time (weekly), I get overwhelmed with everything I need and want to accomplish. After a day of depression and a bag of Doritos, I usually pull myself up and create a plan that will fix EVERYTHING. A plan that will right all wrongs in my life, my family’s, maybe even the world.

 This week’s plan is my best ever. I’ll accomplish the following every day:

• Three hours writing my manuscript
• One hour working on other aspects of writing (I guess you’re expected to blog more than once per month)
• One hour studying the craft of writing (I’ll read every book on the subject)
• One hour exercising
• Two hours taking care of the house

 If I get up at 7:30 and ignore my children, I can get all of this done by 3:30, and then put on my “World’s Best Wife and Mother” hat and make Carol Brady look like a crack whore.

It’s important to set goals, but I have a problem with the perfectionist that lives deep in my psyche. (Of course, if you saw my kitchen floor, you could argue she’s dead.) God bless her. She’s full of good intentions, but inevitably she leads me down the path of failure. It’s the all or nothing concept that gets me every time.

Exhibit A: My Weight Watchers experience. Wanted to lose five pounds. Should’ve just started walking daily, but no, I was going to do it the right way. First day, no problem, stuck to my 20-some points. Next day by 10 am, I’d consumed half my points for the day, and I was still starving. Did I give myself a break and say, “Hey, let’s ease into this. Give yourself some extra points today.” No. I pulled out my son’s birthday cake and went to town. After all, if you can’t do it right, why even bother? Two-hundred and fifty-seven points later, I accepted the Weight Watchers thing wasn’t for me.

So how’s it going with this week’s plan? I slept until 8:30. The whole day’s ruined.