Only dealing with major crises. Not having time for small things. That's very 'I-grew-up-in-a-home-affected-by-alcoholism'. The only thing that gets you out of bed is a crisis. Otherwise, you just can't be bothered. Make something decent for lunch? Who has time for that? Lurching from heroic act to heroic act, and occasionally dissolving like a knob of butter on a hot day into a health-and-safety hazard. The result: swinging between chaos and tedium.
I've been told there's more to life than being a blue-light service. So:
Cancel everything for a week and just do small things.
Throw out the spices that are past their sell-by date. Plant something. Make a posset or a syllabub. Dust a skirting board. Just one. That'll do. Then, on the seventh day, survey your modest handiwork. And nap.