It's Thursday. That's nice. It means that tomorrow is Friday. That means that I'm going out of town tomorrow. That's fun. I'm going to see Grandma tomorrow and some friends from Pennsylvania. That's right Arizona friends, look at the other people stepping up. Feel free to come visit when you get a chance.
Anyway, as has been evident from the past, oh, I don't know, month's posts, I still got nothing. And you know what? I'm starting not to care. I'm happy with the banality. I'm all about things staying on an even keel. Well, I mean, I'm not personally ever on an even keel, but I assume it would be wonderful. I'm guessing that not having your moods change more often than Lyndsey Lohan's hair color (pop culture reference, yes!) would be nice. But I will probably never know that kind of stability. Sigh. Oh well.
As I was saying, I'm into the routine. I love it. I was thinking about the routine this morning. And I was thinking how comforting it is. It's like church. I find it really comforting that every time you go to church, you do the same things. I haven't been to church in years, except recently when I've gone the last two weeks (one more this month and they've got me), but I still know all the prayers, all the parts of the mass, all the places to stand, sit, kneel. It's cool.
And now I'm getting into my daily routine. Wake up with Zach, make breakfast, pack lunch, take bus, work, take bus, home, make dinner, time with Zach. Do it all over again the next day. It's fun. Sure, there is some variation. Don't get me wrong. Sometimes I go in later, sometimes I go in earlier. I'm just so madcap. And I'm proud of it. Rather than seeing it as heinous that I have to do the same things each day, I take comfort in it.
I like plans, organization, knowing what will happen next. My whole life is one big quest to reduce uncertainty. And I love it. And now I have to go. It's time for the 12:45 hand-washing.
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