If I had an assistant

I think we've all made this list at some point or another. Here's mine:

1. Clean up my itunes and ipod, add stuff like ratings and make me new playlists. Doesn't everyone want an assistant, just for that?
2. All the usual household chores, at least once in a while. Sweep, buy cereal.
*(maybe I just need a boyfriend...)
3. Enter all the scraps of paper I have into an address book--something I haven't had, really, in years. But you know, this is something I might want to do myself...
4. All my real estate internet bullshit, like updating and reposting my ads, organizing my pictures, keeping my ad copy organized in a usable way. I swear, if I had someone doing just doing all the real estate paper and computer ephemera, the job would be so much more fun. I like the searching for the perfect place for a client, I like previewing and coming up with the ad descriptions, I like taking clients out and showing them property, especially when I know it well, which is just starting to happen after three months of looking at apartments everyday. Nothing is worse than taking a client to someplace that sucks or something you can't get into because the super is so wise to all the fucking asshole agents that ruin it for everyone that they only show the apartment for one hour a week and of course your client can't go during that one precious hour but then you find out after two weeks of showing them around to every cheap shithole studio in gramercy park that they don't really have to move; they're "flexible." worst word ever to a real estate agent.
5. Be my fake client to get into apartments you can't see without one. a real client, I mean. Sometimes it is hard to scrounge up friends for the task and I don't always like to ask other agents unless it is a really special apartment that I am sure they'll want to see too. Let's call him "Neil." not the real Neil but the errant client Neil who got my hopes up with his response to a Chelsea highrise ad (they're all the same, so getting a client who wants that is a blessing), his $6000 budget and his "standard poodle" that provided a few chuckles before he stopped calling me back. I made an appointment for us to see a union square penthouse that was new to the market that sounded awesome. I though I had done a good job of getting Neil sufficiently whipped up into a frenzy enough to stop it with the cryptic emails and give me his phone number already. I gave him a couple of confirmation calls to let him know when the appointment was, but started getting a familiar feeling when it was Thursday morning at 10:15 and I still hadn't heard from Neil or his standard poodle. I asked another agent in the office to be my client at the appointment; he agreed, not because he cared to see it but because it was close to the office and he had nothing else going on. Two fifteen rolled around and as predicted, nary an email or call from Neil. Oh well, Dan and Dave met me in front of the building, giggling like schoolgirls. They told me they had been drinking at lunch. Upstairs in the penthouse we run into Stan, another agent in our office. For some reason, we all pretend we don't know each other and suddenly I felt like the one who had had a three martini lunch. We all made it out of there without falling apart and decided to go preview, which turned out to be only one apartment that looked like shit to me and then more drinks for the guys. I had cranberry and soda. It is not much fun not drinking sometimes, especially when getting blotto in the middle of a Thursday afternoon looks so damn fun. But that's for another day...