This article sums it up. Why this morning at 3 am, I was:

• on a conference call
• while writing emails
• while getting dressed to head down to the hotel’s fitness center (sinceI was up anyway)

and then why at 6 am, I was

• on a conference call
• while writing an email
• while drying my hair

and at 7 am, I was

• walking to the office
• while talking to Mr. Hot
• while rearranging a conference call so I could attend a different conference call
• while putting on my earrings and brushing my hair

and why at 9:45 am, I am

• on a conference call
• while writing an email
• while blogging
• and trying to figure out how to get some food
• and researching system failures of imaging controller databases

The original article said:

Because she’s a woman. I have a theory that women, especially mothers, have
several advantages over men in the small-business world.
¶They are better listeners.
¶Consequently, they pick up details and nuances men often miss.
¶They are more active networkers.
¶They are better motivators.
¶Having to juggle home and workplace duties, they are better multi-taskers.
¶They are more patient, and thus better able to stick to long-term strategies.
¶They are more tenacious. Men can be pretty dogged, but not a single one, to my knowledge, has had to endure childbirth.

I love the last one. Based on my experiences whenever Mr. Hot or Shortman isn’t feeling well, I know that neither one of them would be able to survive. One of my peers had a strained shoulder muscle that had him moaning and groaning for a good 6 weeks.

So now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go:

• Take a pee
• and fix my ponytail, because I left in a bit of a hurry this morning,

and then

• Call my boss
• while rescheduling some meetings
• while writing up the research on the failure of the synchronized SAN disks
• while googling what I can eat that will be at least semi-healthy from Au Bon Pain since they have a store downstairs

—- Maybe someday I’ll publish my secrets about how to mix a damn good vodka/cranberry/limeade while reading, polishing my toenails, changing the cat litter, and deadheading the daisies in my flowerbed. Now if I could just get Mr. Hot to be able to give me a backrub while watching Keith Olbermann, I’d be one happy little camper. —-