About this time every year I realize that I’m making resolutions again.

I try not to do this. For one thing, it isn’t even Christmas yet, let alone New Year’s, the traditional season of resolving. For another, what’s the point of making resolutions I’m only going to forget by February?

Ingrained habits have a way of reappearing, though, even as I’m totting up my various lists — Christmas card lists, shopping lists, to-do lists, list lists. Allowing new year’s resolutions in the door like so many Jehovah’s Witnesses is probably an unconscious attempt to distract myself from the duties breathing down my neck in the here and now.

Still: “Never again will I agree to let a store’s website send me what it calls ‘occasional’ emails about sales or special events,” I squawk.

I’ve said yes to such requests more than once, trusting that the website and I agree on the definition of “occasional.” Sometimes the company will go so far as to describe the updates they send to customers as “very occasional” or even “rare,” leading me to believe I’ll almost never hear from it. Why not sign up, then? I think. Most of the time I’ll forget it’s there, and when the semi-annual clearance sale begins or the company’s going out of business, it’ll shoot me a message, as promised. We’ll have one of those symbiotic relationships, like the farmer and the livestock or the flea and the flea-bitten.

Then I hit “OK,” and the emails start coming. They come twice a day, four times, six. They’re waiting for me when I open my email in the morning, and though I wipe them all away, they’re back again by noon. I patiently delete Special Offer! and On Sale Today Only! and We Have the Perfect Gift!, shaking my head at my stupidity. The websites that promised to be silent 99 percent of the time turn out to have raging logorrhea.

Of course I can ask to be taken off the subscriber list, and eventually I do. I say “eventually” because I tolerate the onslaught of emails far longer than you’d think a person in charge of her life would do. Which is why “Remove myself from annoying email subscriber lists” is another resolution I’ve made recently.

It won’t be easy. I know that. Websites don’t put their “Remove me from your list” links front and center. They hide them in corners; they tuck them into electronic crannies. That they hate to lose us is sort of sweet, really. A person is tempted to say, “Oh, well,” and stay on, choosing to delete 75 times a day rather than stick with the long-term project of taking oneself off the list.

But I can’t, because I’ve resolved otherwise. While I’m at it, I’m also going to change my car compact disc routine.

My routine right now is fairly static: a CD goes in and stays there. It stays for days and weeks, for weeks and months, for — so help me, this is the truth — months and years.

The issue isn’t that I don’t know how to change a CD. I don’t, but I’m sure I could figure it out. The issue is sheer laziness, the car CD’s equivalent of a body at rest wanting to stay at rest.

At first, of course, I love whatever CD is in there. I listen to the music; I sing along; I develop my favorite selections; I memorize where they are on the disc.

Then I weary of the music. I’ve heard it 10 million times. I’ve memorized the lyrics. I hear them in my sleep. In fact, if I hear the opening bars to track number six one more time, I’m pretty sure I’m going to shriek and drive straight into the ditch.

This is the point at which I’ve resolved to start changing the CD. Why suffer for 250 more miles when relief is a matter of pushing a couple of buttons and getting that hideous thing out of the car, not to mention my life?

While I’m at it, I further resolve to change the car clocks within two weeks of the biannual time change. Making the adjustment in my head for a day or two is one thing, but continuing to mentally spring ahead until mid-July is ridiculous. You don’t have to tell me.

Well, that’s enough for now. More resolutions will occur to me as time goes on, I’m sure, but right now I’m making a list of the ones I already have.

Email Margo Bartlett at mbartlett @thisweeknews.com.