This would be the election when I would become extremely politically motivated and aware.
I promised myself that I would be open-minded, non-judgemental, unbiased and, most definitely, uncynical.
And I do try.
I try to stop my mind from wandering while I listen to live debates on the radio.
I try to concentrate on what is being said by the party leaders on the television and not on their ( in some cases lack of) fashion sense.
But every time the speeches and arguments comes to an end. I find that I can't remember a single thing anyone has said.
" It's not them, it's you," says my husband Ninesh, " You can't blame the politicians for your inability to concentrate. You've been like it all your life. That's why I've found the jar of mustard in the bathroom cabinet, our credit cards at the bottom of the recycling bin and why most of our sharp knives have been thrown into the compost bin.
And, in many ways, ( most ways in fact ) he's right.
I can't blame this one on the politicians.
My attention span is small and my ability to day dream is big.
But almost one hundred days of political campaigning has left me with pre-election burnout.
I long for the day when I can turn on the radio without having to listen to any more lies, when I can switch on the television without having to watch sycophantic politicians telling me what their opponent can't or won't do and why nothing is their fault.
I've yet to hear them tell me what their own parties can and will do or take actual responsibility for anything.
All these days and weeks and words on, I still haven't heard a politician who can create a vision I want to believe in.
Most of the time it feels as though they don't really have a vision themselves.
Most of the time it feels as though they are on a journey that will end with their egos being boosted and a lot of personal power being gained.
Where has all the colour and the passion gone?
Politics used to be exciting.
Politicians used to be able to make their voters believe in something.
Now it feels as though they are delivering their speeches from ivory towers, untouched by the dirt and grind of normal, everyday living.
Where are the sparks and the battles?
There is so little to choose between the main parties now, that it's hard to know where one grey suit ends and another begins ( lucky they wear different coloured ties).
And all of this is probably why the nationalist parties are doing so well.
At least the flags they are waving separate them from each other.
We may not understand the nitty-gritty details of what they would actually do if they were in power, but we know what they stand for.
Their message is clear:
UKIP doesn't like foreigners- but isn't racist ( yeah, right! )
The SNP wants Scotland to be independent.
Plaid Cymru wants an independent Wales.
Easy.
And if we know nothing else about the Green Party, we know that it wants us to care more about the environment.
Cameron, Clegg and Miliband, on the other hand, want whatever their voters want them to want.
Their messages seem to change with the popularity wind..
I find that instead of becoming more knowledgable and politically aware, I have become more confused and turned into a pre-election bitch.
I watch debates and all I can do is judge the women on how they dress: hot-dresser, power-dresser, sack- wearer.
I listen on the radio and all I can do is judge the men by how their voices sound: boring, revolting, panicked, better-when-drunk.
I see a canvasser at the door and I hide behind the sofa.
I'm horrified at the superficial person I have become.
What's happened?
Where have I gone?
I'm sure I used to care.
I'm sure I used to believe in something.
I'm sure the politicians did too.
But 95 days of mostly meaningless pre-election banter is slowly killing me.
I've lost the political will to live.
I challenge our politicians to sum up in one word, what their party believes in.
I bet they couldn't do it.
I bet they couldn't use just one word where hundreds would do.
I bet they couldn't be concise and clear when they could be waffly and confusing.
Come on, give us just one word!
I can't wait for the 7th of May.
I can't wait to put my cross on the ballot paper and walk out of that poling station.
Because however disillusioned I might feel, voting is the only voice I have.
If you don't vote, you sacrifice your right to moan.
Those who do nothing, do not have the right to complain about those who do something, however little it is.
But I can't wait for it to be over.
I can't wait to shed my superficial pre-election bitchiness.
I can't wait to stop pretending to listen.
I can't wait to go back to being the caring, deep-thinking, Gogglebox-watching, pizza-eating person that I truly am.
And just think, on Friday 8th May, it will only be 1460 days to the next election...and I can't wait.
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