If you're just joining us, I've decided to embark on some sort of journal journey. I say "some sort" because I don't know how long this journey will last or how sporadic my involvement will be.
You can read more in yesterday's post, but essentially, I found a journal that explores 52 writing prompts (all in list form), and I think they're each interesting enough to blog. Of course, I won't stick strictly to the list thing, because I'm verbose and like to, well, be verbose, and add my thoughts of explanation and justification beyond just listing a few words.
Without further ado, let's move on to prompt #2:
List the routines in your personal life
As an adult, I haven't thought of myself as a routine person. I probably am more than I realize, but I just look at people who actually eat breakfast every day, who come home and make some sort of meal for dinner, who wash their face every night before bed, and I think: those people are routine people.
There are things I do every day -- brush my teeth, drink coffee, smooch Max, read -- but I don't always do them on the same timetable. And I've never thought of myself as someone who gets really off kilter when something doesn't go according to schedule. Without an actual schedule, how can things not go according to it? To me, a day is just a day. They're all similar in ways, but also different.
But I guess they're more similar to each other than they're not. Hmm.
OK moving on. Let's examine a day in the life, shall we?
I usually wake up around 3 a.m. I don't know why, I just do. Lately I've been having weird/unhappy dreams, but I generally wake up even without a bad dream. I usually get up to pee, touch the cat who's at my feet or near my torso, and check my phone for texts I've missed.
My alarm starts to go off around 6:30, and I snooze it -- a LOT.
I finally reach a point where I think, "Oh wow, I have to get up now."
I pet Max, because I can't resist. I pee. I pick out a pair of black pants, and a work-appropriate top. I put on deodorant. I feed Max, pick him up and pet him for five seconds, until he squirms away. I give him one more squish and release him to his bowl of kibble.
I check for my keys, wallet, and phone, and my work badge. I put them in a tote bag and make sure I have a book. Usually all of these items are on my bed, where I have slept with them all night. I grab my prescription drugs and add them to my tote.
I turn off the space heater, say bye to Max, close my door. On a good day, I grab a breakfast and lunch item from the kitchen on the way out. I check that the appliances are turned off, that the fridge door is closed. I put on shoes. And I head to work.
I usually charge my phone during my drive to work. I usually listen to a CD, which currently is on the rotation of my entire CD collection, which I'm listening to in its entirety (I'm thinking of abandoning this project, however).
Once in a blue moon, I stop for coffee, but mostly I just go straight to work. Straight shot north, then straight shot east.
When I get to work, I usually make coffee first thing. Dump my bag in my office, grab a K cup and a mug, and head to the office kitchen.
I sip my java while checking emails. Throughout the day, I answer emails from the top down. Meaning I answer the most recent one first; I realize this probably is not the smartest method, but it's how I roll.
There is a giant printer in my office, which is old and overworked, so it jams a lot and is touchy if you haven't selected the right paper drawer. I answer a lot of questions and punch buttons to fix people's printing woes.
I go to the mailroom a few times a day. I drop off empty interoffice envelopes, pick up new ones full of paper.
I sort paper, respond to emails, take phone calls, process record requests. I giggle with my coworkers.
On breaks, I walk outside, read, write notes to friends.
I listen to music all day.
I set up for meetings, attend and take minutes, clean up snack wrappers and do follow up.
At 5, I drive home.
Oftentimes I stop at 7 Eleven, buying bananas, milk, wine, beer, chips. Cat food.
I get home, greet Maxy Wax, feed him.
Turn on the space heater. Grab a drink and a snack, depending on hunger levels, and sit in bed. Pull the covers over my legs, cue up Netflix. I used to surf Facebook for a long time first, but I'm taking a break from that.
I stay seated for a long time, pausing the movie/show I'm watching to text, to get snacks, to take a shower.
Once in a blue moon, I wash my face before bed. I brush my teeth.
I crawl (back) in bed, text Alex good night, lie on my stomach, read until I'm dozing off, sometimes read a little bit longer than that. Set an alarm, conk out.
Wake up around 11 p.m. Check texts. Conk back out.
Is that a depressing routine? I feel like it sounds depressing. But it keeps me relatively content. At times it involves more cross stitching -- like, a lot more cross stitching. Back in the day it involved a lot more exercise.
On many nights I meet Alex for dinner or happy hour or a concert, which is why on the other nights I Netflix and read while I can. I love my boo, and I love my alone time.
This is life as I know it, for the moment. I like that texts from Alex and purrs from Max are in each day.