I think it’s time for me to admit that I am an overachiever.  This isn’t exactly news; my overachieving and its consequences have a long and well-documented history.  Exhibit A: in second grade I decided to write a report about my favorite bird—the blue-footed booby—just for the heck of it, and my teacher rewarded my studiousness by letting me read the report aloud to the class.  Apparently I was the only one in the room who thought “this report is about boobies” was a perfectly legitimate and not at all funny thing to say to a room full of seven-year-olds. …