Routine is a strange thing. Some people love it, some people fear it. Children and pets and certain occupations need routine; supper time, many jobs and relationships can falter under its weight.
One of the things about traveling that sets me on edge is the change of routine, but I know I easily slip into new routines. I become nervous as a trip approaches, but once a journey begins I settle in pretty quickly.
I've settled into nothing so far. Here I sit at one o'clock in the afternoon at my computer. I've been working steadily for the office, but I'm still in my pajamas and robe. I need to go for a run, but my cousin is due for a visit and the dog needs a walk and I just finally ate some lunch.
I hate to eat and run.
The routine that I'm missing the most is a little surprising. I didn't realize how instinctively I put things out for recycling. There's no recycling here. I don't know about Dayton overall, but here in the neighborhood where my mom is and where my aunt lives, they don't recycle. Des Moines only recently began...maybe a year or two ago.
I didn't participate in the years before that because all the cereal boxes had to be flattened, the glass had to be washed and the papers stacked and bound just so. It sounded to me like a part-time job.
But now we all have big wheeled bins like our trash cans. All I have to do is throw things in the bin. Our bin at home is far likely to have more recycling than the trash bin has trash.
So here I sit throwing away plastic bottles and cardboard packages. I weep silently in the pantry each time.
No, I don't. I'm just pulling your leg. But I do keep wondering where to put it all before I realize I have to toss it.
I miss my bin!!
Now if only I can digest, change clothes, go for a run, shower, visit my cousin, walk the dog, run to UPS, work all afternoon, get supper, watch a show, drive to the hospital and tuck my mom into her hospital bed.
Sounds like a lot to do. I should get crack-a-lackin' here.