I got myself a datebook/planner/agenda/whatever you call them at the end of last year. You know, to better keep track of appointments, things to do and all that stuff.
I do this every year, but in my defence, I didn't buy it this year, it was offered as a sample by one of those promotional companies so the company name could be printed on it, and it could be sent out to our clients who would promptly throw it away, thus adding to planetary pollution.
I kept it. Because, as mentioned in the title, hope springs eternal. This was going to be the year of the planner. The year everything was neatly jotted down in my book. (Can you jot neatly or is that a contradiction?)
I should know better actually. I've never managed to do it before, why would that change at the ripe old age of 46?
I've never been good at keeping those things. I tried a paper book, an electronic agenda (damn, I hate those they're just too damn organized) and I can never get past the first month.
Now, it's January 15, 2008. I'm already entering things "posthumously" in the book. It's pathetic.
I don't know whether I should be thrilled to not really need the book to keep track of what I have to do, or devastated that I have so little of a life that organizational tools are not required...