I'm a creature of habit, as I suspect most people are. I have a routine for everything, as spontaneous as I wish I could be. I get ready in the same order every day: Shower, lotion, makeup, hair, clothes. If I do somthing out of this order, I feel like my whole look looks wrong. I even have a routine for web browsing: Gmail, Google Reader, MSN, IMDB, CNN, Facebook then People. And when I'm feeling particularly Twi-hard, I even have a list of Twilight sites to browse, in a particular order, of course. OCD...maybe.
But I know for a fact that there are others who share the same sense of necessity for routines. So, let me get to another wonderful guest post from my good friend, Not Entirely Domesticated. -Shannon
Routines. I live by them starting with my morning routine and ending with my bedtime routine. I’m not saying I’m obsessive compulsive about it. I mean, on occasion I do brush my teeth before washing my face and manage to get through the day.
Routines seem to define each and every person that I pass in a given day. I kick off my day walking into the building and running into the concierge in my office building. A gentleman at heart with the best intentions, but God bless his soul, I can never understand what he is saying to me! My dad tends to
mumble sometimes too so I had always prided myself as a linguist able to decipher the language of a
mumbler. Unfortunately, in this case, I find myself just giving generic responses in the off chance that I am somewhere in the ballpark of whatever question he has asked or comment he has made.
“Great day outside!!! Looks warm.”
“Can’t believe it’s raining!!”
“Is it Friday yet!?!”
The responses are endless. Honestly, if you need some advice on this, I am happy to provide.
Then, I go outside to pick up breakfast, which undoubtedly I insist I don’t need when leaving the house and wind up buying a ten dollar meal once I’m at the office. Sorry, oatmeal, you never make it into my purse in the morning. I run into the same employee from Pret a Manger. Again, an exchange of complete strangers that see each other every day ensues saying a whole lot without saying anything at all.
The day passes at work running into countless individuals that I see everyday. Then, I head home. As I pull into my parking garage, I always feel a nagging tug to greet the parking garage attendance. Without fail, each day, he looks up at me with a disinterested glare and turns back to whatever it is he does in that booth all day. So much for pleasantries there fellow. (Sidenote: He could still be harboring animosity from the time I shamelessly entered through the exit. This action erupted in a scolding from said parking garage attendant and the unfortunate placement of cones to direct traffic into the right entrance. Whatever.)
In my apartment building, it’s the same story. Running into the same people every day. There’s the guy down the hall that throws rip roaring parties on the weekends which typically result in some lone soldier beer can sitting in the hallway the next day. The dog typically takes interest in this trinket from the party and I’m stuck wrestling with him to get him away from the debris.
Then there’s Diane. She seems to know everyone in the building and everyone knows her. If there was a committee in the building – or anywhere in the world for that matter – she’d be the president. You can find her sitting at the restaurant downstairs on Tuesdays dining with her friends over bottles of wine. You can find her walking her new puppy and asking us each time she sees us if our dog is “good with puppies.” If you think “Diane”, you will literally see Diane. The icing on the cake was just the other day when some random woman strolled through the lobby as I was passing through and announced to our concierge, “Guess who I’m going to see? Diane!!!”
It’s endless. Countless routines that cause us to cross paths on a daily basis with little information on what truly defines these people besides their consistency to engage in a routine.