THE MAKING OF A Home The story of Sandy and Sarah (and Lucy and Clementine) THE STORY RECENT COMMENTS OTHER STUFF
Friday October 8, 2004 // By Sandy

The ferschnicklement of routine

This still doesn’t quite feel like my house. My house doesn’t have boxes strewn about, half-filled with crap I never really use. My house doesn’t have this many bedrooms. In my house, the cereal is over here, the spices are over here, and I’m not exactly sure where the breadknife is, but I’ll find it eventually. And most confusingly, my house doesn’t have a GIRL living in it. Where the hell am I?

This new paradigm will take some getting used to, I know that. (Shudder. I just said paradigm.) But in the meantime, I feel like a fish out of water. Or maybe I’m still a fish, but a different kind of fish, like a sea bass, in the wrong type of water, like a great lake. My surroundings are different and the pH meter is in the wrong spot, but it’s still water. I’ll figure it out eventually.

One of the biggest struggles is readjusting routines. I’m a man of details and obsessiveness, so the only way I can get anything done sometimes is to package parts of my day into routines. Without them, I’m bound to obsess over every little detail, which quickly devolves into a state of anxiety for me and insanity for loved ones. For the sake of all involved, it’s best not to make me think.

Here’s an abbreviated list of things that have befuddled me and have caused me to spend more time than I’m willing to admit walking up and down our hallway in a state of confusion:

4 am. Turning left instead of right to go from the bedroom to the bathroom while mostly alseep.

6:30 am. Nakedly wandering around my house, this time only half-asleep, trying to remember from which door hangs my bathrobe.

7:15 am. Repeatedly opening and shutting kitchen cabinets, searching for the new home of the cereal, then the sugar, then the milk. (Then remembering that that lives in the fridge.)

7:35 am. Reaching for my keys on the hook next to the door, then realizing that not only is there no keys, there’s no hook. Reaching for my coat from the coat tree, then realizing the same about coat and tree.

7:40 am. Leaving and locking back door. Reopening door to go lock the front door. Relocking back door. Reopening door to set the alarm. Relocking door. Reopening door to disarm alarm, turn off lights, re-set alarm. Relocking door.

This better settle down eventually. The cats are looking like the calmest creatures next to crazy ol’ me.

Posted by sarah // Oct 8, 13:21
Say something...
  Textile Help