Routines
You know, my life is pretty friggin' great. I've got a great wife, a kid that has potential (seeing that in text makes it look like a veiled insult...) a few cats that aren't complete nutjobs and a job that pays for all of it. I really shouldn't have anything to complain about.
But I'm gonna complain anyway. You see, I have a routine. I don't like having it interrupted. I like to eat certain things at certain times and complete certain requisite tasks in a familiar way. I like the time of day that I commute. I like the rotation of foods in the cafeteria. I like the bed I sleep in: the kinda softer spot where I sleep.
So now I'm in a different country with a different climate and a different bed and a different job and different food and different mealtimes and no wife/kid/cats. But I dealt with it. Built up a new routine. Got my personal funk laid down in the bed and in the room (I know that sounds disgusting, but the point is when I come into my room and crawl into my bed it feels almost like it's mine). But the the laundromat 3 blocks down the road floods or something, so people start coming to mine. Then the other empty rooms nearby start filling up, so there's more people living near 'my' laundromat which means more people trying to use it. And some of them just don't give a shit. Now we have fewer machines working that we did before (it was never 100% operational) and like three times the people using them.
I roll up in there tonight, already kinda upset because I'm normally starting this like 2 hours ago, And there are no less than a dozen people with their laundry packed into this space *waiting*. I sigh and go back to my room. I mean, sure I could get in line, but at 45 minutes/machine I was gonna be waiting for a long time. Plus, by the piles of laundry stacked on top of machines, it was clear that this was an incredibly insensitive group of meatbags. fortunately at least, these machines lock when they start their cycle, so you don't have to worry about some asshole pulling your stuff out of the washer five minutes into the cycle because he decides his sweaty jockstraps and wifebeaters are inherently more important that anyone else's.
I get one day off. It is part of my routine, the one that keeps me flowing from day to day and makes me relatively personable. I do laundry Friday nights to preserve the entirety of my day off, instead of spending the beginning of it doing chores. I am angry. I'm just downright pissed. Nothings more grating than having a routine just fucked all to hell by shit you have zero control over. I almost want to say, "There's no point in planning or expecting to be able to do anything," but if I can't plan, there's no point in doing in the first place since I can't expect to get it done. I tried living like that. I slept a lot. I got stuff done at work, but my complete lack of fervor in task accomplishment led my coworkers to start 'worrying' about me, and the statement that there was no point in doing anything but what was relevant at the moment got me a strongly worded recommendation to mental health.
heh.
But I'm gonna complain anyway. You see, I have a routine. I don't like having it interrupted. I like to eat certain things at certain times and complete certain requisite tasks in a familiar way. I like the time of day that I commute. I like the rotation of foods in the cafeteria. I like the bed I sleep in: the kinda softer spot where I sleep.
So now I'm in a different country with a different climate and a different bed and a different job and different food and different mealtimes and no wife/kid/cats. But I dealt with it. Built up a new routine. Got my personal funk laid down in the bed and in the room (I know that sounds disgusting, but the point is when I come into my room and crawl into my bed it feels almost like it's mine). But the the laundromat 3 blocks down the road floods or something, so people start coming to mine. Then the other empty rooms nearby start filling up, so there's more people living near 'my' laundromat which means more people trying to use it. And some of them just don't give a shit. Now we have fewer machines working that we did before (it was never 100% operational) and like three times the people using them.
I roll up in there tonight, already kinda upset because I'm normally starting this like 2 hours ago, And there are no less than a dozen people with their laundry packed into this space *waiting*. I sigh and go back to my room. I mean, sure I could get in line, but at 45 minutes/machine I was gonna be waiting for a long time. Plus, by the piles of laundry stacked on top of machines, it was clear that this was an incredibly insensitive group of meatbags. fortunately at least, these machines lock when they start their cycle, so you don't have to worry about some asshole pulling your stuff out of the washer five minutes into the cycle because he decides his sweaty jockstraps and wifebeaters are inherently more important that anyone else's.
I get one day off. It is part of my routine, the one that keeps me flowing from day to day and makes me relatively personable. I do laundry Friday nights to preserve the entirety of my day off, instead of spending the beginning of it doing chores. I am angry. I'm just downright pissed. Nothings more grating than having a routine just fucked all to hell by shit you have zero control over. I almost want to say, "There's no point in planning or expecting to be able to do anything," but if I can't plan, there's no point in doing in the first place since I can't expect to get it done. I tried living like that. I slept a lot. I got stuff done at work, but my complete lack of fervor in task accomplishment led my coworkers to start 'worrying' about me, and the statement that there was no point in doing anything but what was relevant at the moment got me a strongly worded recommendation to mental health.
heh.
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