Underachieving since high school

You know how you get in those ruts sometimes? Or maybe it's just me, and my chronic lethargy. I'm a compulsive to-do list maker, because if I don't write it down I don't remember it (my memory has a very finite capacity). Lately I've been writing down things I've already done, just so I can cross them off. Or adding very small, easily achievable tasks. Like finishing a book. Or sending a postcard. Or buying more laundry detergent (note: store is 50 metres from my front door). All of which have been carried over to the next week's to-do list three times now. Other areas in which I have spectacularly failed to meet my own expectations:

Booking a hair appointment
I haven't had my hair cut since November. Because of the rather - dare I say it - 'edgy' cutting style of Coupe Bizarre, my formerly rock-n-roll 'do now sports eight inches of split ends and says nothing so much as 'unwashed hippie.' Make that 'unwashed hippie with malnutrition and hard water.' And yet ... and yet ... booking a hair appointment requires a decision and a risk. (Committing to an untested hairdresser and trusting them with my hair, which took years of determination and focus to grow.) And we all know that means I'll never get around to it.

Arriving at work before 9:30 am
Did I say I was a morning person in my job interview? Did I say I spring out of bed each day full of energy, ready to bring fresh new ideas and enthusiasm to the projects at hand? Did I say I was invariably punctual, polished and professional? Well, that's what you get for believing someone with the hair of an unwashed and malnourished hippie living in a flat with hard water.

Spending more than five minutes in the kitchen
There is photographic evidence to prove that I am not starving. But I can't seem to regain any motivation to actually cook. Dinner means one of three things: a) I've eaten so much junk earlier in the day that I'm not hungry; b) I throw together a prewashed salad with pre-crumbled feta and tomatoes small enough that they don't need to be cut up; c) I microwave something from Marks & Spencers. I've never been one for cooking, but this is ridiculous. There could be some relation between this, my lack of energy, and my inability to achieve glossy, shampoo-commercial locks. But damned if I can see it.

Buying a car
The only things I'm worse at than the little decisions are the big decisions. And this is a biggie. Especially as I'm too scared to test-drive anything on the wrong side of the road. Hey, look at that - something else I've failed to do. Six months here, only six months left before I need to apply for a British driving license, and no UK driving experience. I'm outdoing myself here. But there's more!

Applying for a British credit card
Wouldn't you rather get charged an arm and a leg every time you use your foreign credit card? Anything to avoid having to sit down and read some boring paperwork. I'm really good about doing my taxes, too, by the way. If it weren't for my mom I'd probably never be able to return to Canada.

Hooking myself up with a mobile phone
Jeff has even acquired a used phone for me in an attempt to vault me into the 1990s. But, see, getting it set up requires choosing a phone plan which means a decision AND reading boring paperwork. And then I'd have to change my blog name.

Responding to emails
Many of you will already be aware of my shortcomings in this area. I wish I could say it's because I've been breathtakingly busy with a flashy social life, gruelling workout schedule and meteoric career trajectory.

I need an annoying but un-ignorable super-motivating Richard-Simmons type person (but not in short shorts) to get me off the sofa. Oh dear, have I just admitted to needing a LIFE COACH? Gag.

Off to London for a seminar tomorrow. And then hopefully (if I can borrow Jeff's mobile phone) to meet up with the lovely Kathrin. She's a go-getter. Maybe I'll be inspired ...

P.S. Still raining.