ast Tuesday, I received the following email:

“Dear Sarah Hepola,
Are you ready for your trip in just two days?”

I was not ready. I was not ready because my trip—to Texas, planned months ago—was not supposed to take place for another week. Panicked, I went to my online reservation. I looked at the dates. I looked at the calendar. Dates. Calendar. Dates. Web research? Calendar.

I had finally done it: I had bought plane tickets for the wrong day.

I say “finally” because there was a certain inevitability to my mistake. I make these kind of goofs a lot--little oversights with big consequences. I switch two digits in my phone number, I show up to Friday’s party on Saturday. While somewhat endearing in a daffy way, this used to drive my boyfriend crazy. The last time I told him to meet me at a bar on Fifth Street, which he scoured as I sat care-free with a beer on Fourth, I should have known he wouldn’t be my boyfriend much longer.

It’s weird. I think of myself as a detail person. And I’m sure Michael Jackson thinks his surgery looks really, really nice. But listen: I know facts, I remember birthdays, I am keenly observant. I just apparently have some blind spot in my brain that obstructs my view every now and then. It’s annoying, really. I have learned to check and double-check—but then I get an email, like the one last Tuesday, and I spend the next hour and $300 of my life trying to fix it.

All of this leads me to an important realization: I need an assistant. I also need a cook, a personal trainer, an accountant, and a masseuse, but I can start small. I need someone to make plane reservations on the right day. I need someone to remind me when rent is due. And if that someone happens to do some laundry while they’re at it, even better. This could be a great opportunity for any young writer. My assistant could learn life skills—like where the post office is, and how to make a good pasta arrabiatta.

I know what you’re thinking: How could an important blogger like Sarah Hepola not already have an assistant? I don’t know, my friend, but that needs to change. After all, it’s critical that I maintain a clear mind, a balanced life, and the ability to write self-indulgently at 2pm on a Tuesday.

I mean Wednesday.