I can afford to be self indulgent, in mind at least, since I have nobody to feel unindulged in the wake of my obvious self pampering. However, the problem of self indulgent behaviour is that the fun can truly wear off. I'll be the first and perhaps only one to admit that my automatic eating of crap and/or quantity has returned to my misbehavior patterns, and yet the truth is that I don't really get any pleasure out of it. So why? Why indeed.

The fact that I pack so much into my life is a big plus for me. I truly want it all and sacrifice sleep and sanity to get it. However, something has to give. My house is a wreck, my body is not incredibly happy, my stress levels are all over the place, and my bank balance and driving licence are both in serious trouble. In short, I may have to admit that I've not entirely been on top of it all. Such is the nature of the reckless boy that didn't grow up.

Just like the flaps in my shirts that allow me to change shape from time to time without them getting too tight, so I have some room in my life set aside to deal with some of these things. The next few months will present my biggest challenge to date, and I'm excited and scared in equal measure.

Perhaps this is why I'm comfort eating again. Idiot!