You wake up in the middle of the night, all the tasks you didn’t complete hovering over you, poking at you, tearing at your PJs, reminding you of all the disastrous outcomes that will ruin your life if they’re not checked off. You remember why you abandoned writing to-do lists.

Eyes bleary, you stumble out of bed, wincing as your inflamed plantar fasciitis stabs your heel with every step. But gosh-darn-it, you’re going to get something done so you can rest peacefully tonight.

Last night’s dishes, crusted with brown sauce from the bean stew you made, sit in the sink and all over the counter. Why does Netflix seem so important just before bed? You vow to reduce binge watching. Somethings are more important than Frank Gallagher and his family of misfits. Sleep. Sleep is more important.

Even as you say it, you know you’re weak. This battle is one you’ve fought and lost so many times, you’re too ashamed to keep a tally. Too embarrassed to share your defeat with another person. The jiggle under your PJ shirt, pressing against the sink, and soaking up stale water is part of the evidence that some things matter more than your goals.

Today will be different, you say, pushing aside feelings that can be overwhelming. Today has to be different. You will take a walk. You will clean the kitchen before bed. You will check off two items from your list. You’ll be victorious. You’ll win.