Day 62: Esoteric "Routine" Ramblings

I get up, I have two cups of coffee with half a gallon of soy milk in them, I eat a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats with Strawberries, I read news online at CNN and the NY Times. I pad around the house in my robe and slippers my wife bought me . . . oh, wait, this isn’t me, this is the husband: The King of Routine. I don’t have a morning routine, I barely know how to spell routine. Jeff and I couldn’t be more different in this one respect. Whereas he is more easygoing, he’s also the guy that will do things the exact same way at the same time every day. I on the other hand, live on instinct and shy away from plans because I never know what I’m going to feel like doing or eating at any given moment. Why are some people naturally geared towards a regimented and structured day, while others wander through it, stumbling into the events of their day?

I actually never knew Jeff was a routine guy until a few years in. Stupid on my part I suppose, as I knew he was a Army lifer and they aren’t exactly known for spontaneity. Still, when we met, Jeff was a grad student and a pretty notorious hell-raiser. At that time I was the one with the steady job to get to and normal hours to keep. Together we were fairly unpredictable and that life suits me best. Of course, after over five years together reality has set in and while there are days when his love of routine makes me want to throw a live toaster into the shower with him, for the most part we’re managing to find a balance. A balance that started wobbling after our conversation this evening.

I still think of myself as the wild child. I am raw emotion and instinct and tend to be less than predictable. In my heart and head I’m sort of gypsy and I like that about me. In reality however, I’m just an aging, irresponsible woman who plans the minute details of everything because I’m a control freak and then freaks out about feeling trapped and controlled and throws it all to hell. So today when I was discussing my weekend with Jeff I mentioned that I just hadn’t felt much like going out recently and planned to spend another Saturday home watching a movie and doing stuff around the condo. Then I said the thing that caused him to say the thing that then started me thinking about things, I said: “The only night I really like to go out is Sunday now, I pretty much go to Mac’s every Sunday night.” To which he replied: “Why?”

Hmmm. Why indeed? One, that was a stupid question on his part. Because I do, that’s all. Does a woman have to have a damn reason for everything? Secondly, shut up! Shit, now I have a routine and I didn’t even realize it. Why do I go to the same place every Sunday? It’s not like I have a bunch of friends there or that I’m a huge fan of BBQ, although to be fair it is the best BBQ in town. I go there every Sunday night because . . . well, because I want to dammit! Now get off my back about it. Is it possible that I have developed an affinity for routines without ever realizing it? And if so, does that mean I’m not a free-spirited gypsy anymore? Oh man, next thing you know I’m going to start driving responsibly, and keep more than moldy leftover takeout and Jello pudding cups in my fridge.

More than that, this brief and seemingly pointless exchange made me wander at the overall dynamic of our relationship. Why would the guy who craves routine the way I crave mashed potatoes ask why I do something routinely? Duh. Why do you eat the same thing for breakfast and lunch every day for years on end? Because you do. Because you like it. Because shit happens. Why does there have to be a better answer than that and why am I now obsessed with worrying over my possible spiral into a creature of habit. I think routine behavior comforts people and gives them a sense of purpose and order to an otherwise unremarkable day. Jeff has been a creature of habit his entire life aside from a brief break when his routine consisted of drinking every night until 4am, passing out, going to class and then drinking again. Even that had a certain structure to it. So what about me? What’s my story?

I am terrified of living an ordinary life, of normalcy, of routine, and of being trapped. Should I stop going to Mac’s on Sunday out of fear that suddenly I might just become Habitual Hannah? I like Mac’s and I like going there on Sundays. Maybe by suddenly having a routine I am actually being less habitual. I mean, it stands to reason that if my routine is not having a routine, then suddenly developing a routine means I am no longer routinely following a lifestyle of no routine. Know what I mean?

I think maybe that in trying to just “be” in life instead of constantly dictating who I must be or how I must act I’ve naturally developed some habits I didn’t know I’d want. It’s hard work to constantly go against the grain. I’m going to just flow for a while and see what other habits might develop. Who knows, maybe I’ll become even more unpredictable or maybe I’ll discover that constancy has its merits. Either way, at least it will be real and that is precisely what I am trying to be, just now maybe I’ll “be” without the trying part.