However much satisfaction I know revision will give me, I'd still rather watch cricket. And THAT is saying something.

Tonight, shockingly, I actually managed to spend a solid two hours revising. No, really. I've recently discovered that the trick is to act like it's a continuation of the school day -- get home, get changed and whip the books out before your brain has time to figure out that it's relaxation time. It starts making forceful objections after a while, but you can still get in some work, whereas if you get home and immediately switch the telly on then you're sunk. It doesn't matter how many times you promise you'll "do it later", if that telly goes on, the brain goes off and you might as well kiss goodbye to any sort of productivity.

So now, having done my revision, I feel quite smug, satisfied and thoroughly pleased with myself. And I know -- having managed it once or twice before -- that this lovely, squishy warm feeling will happen every time I have a productive evening. And I know that should I walk in, sit down and start watching rubbish/using Facebook/reaching for any non-tedious/education-related book, I will go to bed feeling lazy, miserable and stressed. So, surely, the solution is simple. (My mother certainly thinks so.)

But it just isn't though! It does not matter how many people tell me that the satisfaction makes the work worth it, or how many times I experience it firsthand -- for some infuriating reason, I still end up watching The Jeremy Kyle Show. And that's not even good telly. Last year, when GCSE revision was standing over me and glowering like I owed it something (which I usually did), I actually resorted to watching cricket. For real. Now, cricket, is the longest game in the world -- as far as I'm concerned, no-one knows how long it's actually supposed to go on for because no-one, in the history of the world, has ever had the patience to finish a game. But for some reason the selfish, short-term, somewhat idiotic portion of my brain thinks that it's preferable to sixteenth century European history. Which is only sometimes true.

I think, however, that I am now resigned to my fate. I will spend a good portion of my life wasting my time and drifting off to sleep feeling disappointed with the whole day. But the way I justify this to myself is simple; maybe, just maybe, those lazy evenings make the productive ones feel just that litle bit more satisfying. (I did say maybe.)