Explaining the creeping crapness

Imagine that a light bulb blows when you switch it on. Each subsequent time you go to switch the light on you realise you really should get around to changing the bulb, and would indeed do so straight away if it wasn't for the terribly unimportant thing you were doing at that moment.

Thus the creeping crapness begins...

Look around you. It's right in front of you. The piece of wallpaper coming away from the wall. The dead batteries in the remote control. The door that doesn't quite close properly. The cracked tiles around the bath set off nicely by the slow drip of the tap that won't quite turn off completely.

All are tolerable in isolation but combined together form the creeping crapness, which grows everyday to the point where it eventually becomes overwhelming. Left unchecked it will slowly consume you until you wake up one morning and find yourself living on a Rose Hill estate driving a clapped-out Fiesta and eating last night's takeaway pizza cold from the box with the three remaining teeth in your mouth.

Of course Rachel's solution is to write a list of things to do, so not only can you observe it happening to you but also chart its invasion as you fail to do anything to tackle it.