"I won't count this time!" is the excuse of the drunken Rip Van Winkle of the stage in William James's chapter on habit. James answers that the nervous system counts every time. It keeps a trace of what we do, so habits are being built whether we mean to build them or not. That sounds stern until James turns it into useful housekeeping. Hand as many daily details as possible to habit, he argues, and the mind stays free for its real work; make the nervous system an ally instead of an enemy. You don't have to spin your whole fate before coffee. Pick one small thing you'd like your nervous system to count again tomorrow, the stretch, the made bed, the two minutes with the kid before the screens, and do that one first, on purpose.
We are spinning our own fates, good or evil, and never to be undone. Every smallest stroke of virtue or of vice leaves its never so little scar.
William James, The Principles of Psychology (1890), vol. 1, ch. 4, "Habit"