It was Sunday night and time to take a look into my schedule for the week. I gathered the sticky papers on my desk and organized them by my color system: yellow for normal, pink for priority and blue for 'should have been done yesterday.' Notes on white notebook paper are mom-related things.

First on the list was mom stuff. Two teens and two soccer games; one is in Jeffersonville and one is in Eldred and both games begin at 3:00 p.m. One kid will eat out and the other will be home, so I have to factor in take out for teen number two.

Second is a PTA meeting and a meeting with school district's BLT, that's a building level team, not a sandwich. Both are school related: one at 6:00 p.m. and one at 7:00 p.m., different days and none on Monday. These can be changed to the yellow sticky paper file.

Night school happens to be on Wednesday and I have to do my homework on Tuesday. Boy, do I hate night school; the ultimate torture, sitting in a college class with more teens. I think that I might be the only one in there that doesn't have some body part pierced or tattooed. They all know everything and all sound "like ah, they're from, like, California." That one goes from the pink sticky paper to yellow, too.

Then there's my job, the one I get paid for. I have to work at my real estate appointments: Monday I have a building inspection, an appointment with a bank appraiser and finally, I need to go to Wurtsboro to pick up contracts and deliver them to Jeffersonville. If I timed it right I could drop off those contracts and see part of teen one's game.

I thought I had it, but I still worried that I was forgetting something. I moved the papers around my desk to see if I missed any sticky papers. I still didn't think that I was going to get all this accomplished. I looked over to the other corner of my desk.

Well, I could have grabbed an extra handful of vitamins, but I didn't know if even that was going to be enough. If only there were two or three of me... I could get everything done.

Wait, what was this in a Sunday newspaper from several weeks ago, that I was just then getting to read? It was a headline in the health section about cloning. It seems that there are 100 people on the waiting list already. Cloning? Wait a minute; let's give this some thought.

Of course it would be totally wrong to clone yourself for some selfish reason like having one clone to stay home and clean the toilets or sending the other one out to do the career related items while the third gets to dress in really baggy jeans like a co-ed and say "like" at the beginning of every sentence.

But still, what would really be the harm in exploring a few options? The possibilities are intriguing. Things like spare body parts that don't sag... and I wonder if clones get gray hair?

On the down side, my poor ex-husband had enough trouble with one of me. I think that three would probably put him over the edge.

What if I could get on that list? If they could make three sheep, then why not three of me? I suppose that clones would be identical in every way, but what if I could bribe a scientist to tinker a little with the prototype? Nothing major, just a few simple modifications.

I think the first thing to tinker with would be that gene that allows fat to accumulate on my hips and thighs. And since we're making a few modifications, I think it might be nice to adjust my height. I think that it would be nice to be a tad taller; that way when business clone goes to a real estate closing and the nice attorney-man says, "Honey, will you get us all some coffee?" She could stand up real tall and look down disapprovingly at him. That might be fun.

I think that I need to adjust my speed and agility, too; just enough to help mom clone to leap over tall mounds of laundry with a single bound or maybe run faster than a speeding bullet between Jeffersonville and Eldred to catch both soccer games.

My co-ed clone gets to go to all school meetings and smile and look intelligent. After the school meetings she gets to go to night school and sit with teenagers.

Cloning has definite possibilities, but then, when in the world would I ever have time to find out about it? Where would I go with all my sticky paper... and what would I be doing after they took over my schedule?

I need a vacation, but you can only cruise for so long. Somehow, I know I'd get stuck with the clone's laundry. There's got to be another way... maybe I'll do my homework at the soccer game.