I am like an alcoholic or a druggie who relapses, time and again.
It was something of a mystery to me that I make so many resolutions, but fail to follow any of them through. That is when I discovered my true nature.
It was rather like waiting patiently on a machan and hoping for that elusive tiger to appear, but I tried to observe my behaviour with the same disaffection.
I like cleanliness - as long as it's not me who has to clean. My room resembles a field that a tornado may have passed through and from then on, it's a downhill journey - literally.
Mountains of books and clothes pile up in the room, and a treacherous path between them is my normal route in the room for months. Then one day, it's like wiping the glass clean and I am noticing the filth for the first time.
I run the cycles on the washing machine, get out the iron and within the day, my clothes are washed, ironed and folded in the closet. Gathering the books and stowing them according to the authors and subjects, I tidy up the room. Then I rave and rant at my sister, because her half of the room looks like a tornado has passed through it (choosing to conveniently forget that my half looked just the same). After that mini-explosion, I grumble and mumble under my breath and then clean it up for her.
This behaviour occurs in cycles. I can see a small hill of clothes perched precariously on the beanbag, and it looks like it may fall - oh, wait a minute - it just did. Just my luck.
And after all this tedious observation, I decided to take it one day at a time. Planning for the future may be one of my most favourite hobbies, and try as I might, I can't take a break from it.
So here's to those people out there, why plan a lot, but execute hardly 50% of it. May we achieve success by overplanning - there seems to be no other options for sods like us.