The Satan Plan

Blood today was pretty much the worst it's been in the last year - I broke the 7 barrier, with blood sugar of 7.2.
Ulp.

Got up in time to walk before work this morning. Got dressed and booted...got as far as the front door. Looked out, blinking. Last week's summery weather had turned chill and even snowy.
"Ah, screw it," I said. "I'll do biking and the Pathways Walk at lunchtime..."
I intended to go and get on the bike.

That would have meant changing shoes.
"I'll just log onto the web and check my email first," I thought.
The list of Stuff To Do had grown to double its size overnight, and there were some helpful emails in my inbox, meaning I could get on with a few items.
"I'll just knock this lot off first, then hit the bike..." I told myself.
Before I looked up, it was 11.30.
The walk started at 12. I dragged my ass out the door and trudged over to the leisure centre. Ricky, one of the instructors, was in reception.
I looked outside at the freezing drizzle, and asked:
"Is there a Pathways Walk today man?"
"Yeah..." he muttered. "Should be...if Christine's OK to do it..."
"Cool," I groaned.
"In an hour," he said.
"What?"
"Walk starts at one, man..."
I went away, slapping myself upside the head - I'd gotten the time wrong...again!
Went for lunch in a local cafe - omelette, toast, beans. While I was finishing, Christine called.
"'iya..." she sniffed, gurgling snot through her nose at me. "No walk today Tone...I'm full of a cold."
"Sounds like," I agreed.
"Come do some gym if ya like, for free," she offered. I looked down at my walking shoes, and remembered the list of Stuff To Do, quietly reproducing like frogs on my computer. Went home and killed a few more items off the list.

Indian mean tonight - lots of coconut, quite a bit of mango, substantial carbfest.

Pleasant enough day, in other words, but indicative of a sense of control collapsed into gibberish and lazines.
It's times like this when the devil-voice whispers a little Satan Plan on your shoulder.
"Maybe what you should do is purposefully gain some. Have a blow-out...eat everything you want. Carb and candy, potato-pizzas with extra maple syrup sauce....nom nom nom nom nom..."

And the sick thing is, there might even be some sense in the Satan Plan - properly losing control to snap the discipline back into sharp relief and get me started back on a proper neurotic, do-this-or-die kick.

I'm not doing it.
At least, I'm not doing it yet, because the irritating angel on the other shoulder keeps pointing out that if we say I'm still 14 stone 12.25, if I go mad and put on back a half-stone, that's a whole half stone that I've already lost at least once (or, in this case, twice!), and which I'll then have to lose all over again. At the moment, that's enough to stop me trying the rubber-banded Satan Plan, but clearly, even knowing that I should do something dramatic, it's not enough, on its own, to get me to actually do that dramatic thing.

It's probably fair at this point to call my reolve and this experiment temporarily broken. Anyone got any ideas about how to start it up again, how to regain the bastard-stubbornness I need to push on down? Best suggestions will not only be tried, they'll get mentions...Faintly desperate here, folks...
Save me from the Satan Plan...