The Power of Routine

A couple of posts ago, I talked about how surprisingly mundane life in New York is. I may have sounded a bit disappointed. I guess I wanted every walk in the city to include two beautiful gay men - one tall and blond, the other tall and black - holding hands while the black guy sings at the top of his lungs, " I have a Dutch man. He is my Dutch man. I hold him every night. I hold him every morning. Because if I don't. He will find someone else."

No, every walk does not have a soundtrack like that. So while I lament the lack of some of that freshness each day, I have to give the power of routine it's due. Without a strict routine to keep me grounded, I am a walking disaster.

You remember the wallet incident. Since then, I have consistently left my phone at home or at work (it's really not a good idea for someone like me to be wandering around the city without my phone), left my lunch at home and left my iPod i don't even know where. I'm not generally this forgetful, and I've decided that it's the lack of routine that's causing all this turmoil.

Unfortunately, i've got several months to go before my long-term routine will kick in. First I was squatting at my college roommate's house. Now I'm renting his neighborhing rent house. There has been ongoing renovation at both locations, necessitating extended living out of suitcases, on couches, blow up beds, as well as teeth brushing in the shower. Odds are we won't close on our new apartment until January, and then when we finally move in, we are going to quickly rip up the kitchen just to keep things interesting.

So, if I seem to be a bit scattered, it's with good reason. I've got a lot going on. I can't wait to indulge myself with bit more obsessive routine - Although i hope it comes with a liberal amount of "I've got a Dutch man . . ."