These days my weekday morning routine is very much that – routine.
Personally, I’m not a fan of routines. Luckily for me, I’d identified this trait before I went for my last job interview and landed myself a job where routine was never an issue. Until Activity Based Seating, which I’m going to re-name Absolute Bull Sh*t or ABS for short.
But every morning, post-shower, I make myself a latte from my beloved Nespresso machine and take my iPad into the bathroom. I watch something I know backwards while I do more routine things like hair and makeup. Some mornings I feel like my grandmother’s face is looking back at me. Those are not good mornings. Today was one of them. I’ve learnt never to try a selfie on those days, because whatever I thought might have looked semi-acceptable in front of the mirror looks like Norma Desmond on camera.
This morning I hit the office, moaned about ABS, and then wondered how my routine would be if I ever achieved my dream of being a full-time writer. Would there even be a routine where I got dressed and did hair and makeup, or would I be one of those weirdos who are still in their bathrobes at three o’clock in the afternoon? The scary thing is, I can see that happening. It’s not a pretty sight. If I ever get the chance to just write, I will need to establish another routine, set time aside to make sure I get things done. Just like a job, albeit with slightly more freedom. And better coffee.
This evening I dived into my cookbooks. Now that I have committed to posting a recipe every Sunday, I can finally get down to baking all those cakes I’ve been wanting to bake for ages. I have no more excuses. Sunday is bake day. It’s a commitment. It’s a routine.
But it’s one I enjoy. It’s not a chore.
So even someone like me, who would rather shave her own head than be constantly bound by routines, can find some use for the occasional one.
The morning routine with ABS is still one I’d shave my own head to avoid.
I’m thinking something with lemons this Sunday. And marzipan. Watch this space.