My resolve was worthless.
I tried hard to pretend I could wait until the last minute before coughing up for my new Season Ticket.
My strong argument of keeping my money, earning me interest rather than going into the coffers of the club was an easy one to announce but much more difficult to live with.
It just didn't FEEL right.
Every year for what seems like forever, by late May, I've had a little white piece of card with my own handwriting on it perched on top of the TV. It was the acknowledgement from the club that I had paid to be part of the following seasons campaign.
Late last week, I tapped on the window of the ticket office so those working hard/checking facebook would notice me and handed over my details plus debit card.
It's a stupid thing to admit but I actually feel a little bit relieved now that I'm back on board for sure.
The whole issue has been put to bed and I'm happy about it.
I'm less happy at my own lack of staying power.