And where have I been, you ask?
Retuning my routine. Adding a dog to said routine. Changing said routine to better match the needs of our family.
But what does that mean in English?
Blind effing panic.
I am SO NOT GOOD at changing routines. It's almost (almost I said) comical how lousy I am at this. Travel—that I can do. There's no expectation of routine, and generally one emerges regardless. But home...ah, well... here's what
an ideal day a day that could be replicated would look like.
Up between 8am and 9am (my Sister cited this as the appropriate time for our body clocks and she's right).
Breakfast and read the paper.To be honest, even if I had the time, I wouldn't. But it's a nice idea, no?
work doing something involving the computer and/or paper (writing, answering letters, etc)--immediately. Somehow if I don't start right away, all hell breaks loose and it never gets done--or it's relegated to rushing and that's no good for anyone.
Work (read: at the computer...).
Get kids (you'll notice they didn't show up until now--I'm not so good at getting back home after taking them to school in the morning. Things Happen, as we say.).
Lay around knitting.
I like that.
Sit around reading, watching movies, drinking Scotch, knitting, going out to a show...not by myself, mind you. Some Husbands thought they and the kids were left out of all of this. No no no. As long as the Scotch and knitting are included, all are welcome aboard!
Sleep around midnight.
You'll notice how completely, unbelievably, pathetically unrealistic this is. I know that. I acknowledge that. I'm just sayin...
I don't know that I'd like it any more, but it's a routine. After last week (which was all about emergent, not even urgent got through) my constitution is screaming for a routine. If I don't start firing on the work thing pronto in the morning, I'm all fatootsed. But.
C'est la guerre, right? It ain't gonna happen.
And honestly, if it did...I'd probably be bored off my tuches.