every morning is the same this week. wake up sleepy, catching the last threads of dreams swirling around, check the time, disappointed that i can’t sleepp any later than i do, roll out of bed, pee, peel off the breathe right as painlessly as possible, shuffle into the kitchen, bracing for the temperature let in by the open patio door, 6 cups, 3 scoops, push the on button, turn on the computer, check email and myspace, bank account, eventually find my way into the shower, followed by lotion, hair gunk, blowdry, makeup, clothes, out the door. some things are variable, like if i drink my coffee black or with soy milk, is tim awake before i am, do i write morning pages or no, but most of the time it’s routine. now, i am rarely comforted by routine. in fact, most routine brings up great contempt. but at the same time, when i have loads of unused time on my hands, i find myself at a loss for new inventive ways to fill it.

lots of things in my life are seeming routine lately. mornings, work, midmorning snack followed by bad stomach, protein shake for lunch, home, lounge by the pool, run, weights, dinner, movie. this is easy and comfortable, i know. this is also the routine my friends live in as well, so i go with it. i find no reason not to.

i’ve lived with the tenant familiarity breeds contempt as my unofficial mantra, and now in truly familiar territory every day, i find a breath of refreshment in it. in a moment with tim yesterday, the comfort and joy i felt knowing there was no compulsory end to all of this was overwhelming. i’ve spent a significant amount of time holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it’s obvious to me that by doing that, there will always be another shoe, poised for plummet. by not doing it, there’s joy in the routine, dinner at the Mexican joint, the tussles over movies at the rental store, coffee black or soy.