Every neighborhood has them.  They are an essential cog in the circuits of society.  They keep things running, moving, and organized.  When they are around things get taken care of.  We giggle when they are not looking, and gawk in amazement at their unnatural energy.  When they enter a room you can almost hear the Flight of the Bumblebee coming from some hidden speaker.  They are the overachievers.  My neighborhood is the proud owner of not just any overachiever, but THE overachiever.  We've got the president of the PTA.  She has a dozen kids, she's never without perfect hair, makeup and wardrobe, her house is perfect, and I swear she never sleeps.  Forget the Batmobile - she rocks the minivan.  As I watch my kids board the bus every morning from the comfort of my kitchen window, having only gotten out of bed with just enough time to get them ready for school, she's been up for hours.  She's probably already ground wheat from her food storage to make the days bread.  She is unnatural and I study her in awe.  She isn't your standard issue overachiever.  She's Mrs. O.