There can be a fine line between a routine that drives us forward and brings us purpose and one that bores us in all its monotony after the third month of engaging in physical relations on the same evening of the week after the same mediocre television series in the same position. While it true, we do need moments that are almost sure things to look anticipate, we also need enough flexibility to maximize the potential of each available moment.
Rather than relate all the tediousness of what has become current routine, I’ll just say, I found a rhythm that is working…you know for the moment…or until it ceases to work. Such is everything. Life wouldn’t be what it is if we were denied opportunities to adapt.
When things go well, I am tight lipped, and when things go poorly, I am also tight lipped. Sans the complaining. I’m not sure why I bother. In general, I expect things to go poorly, and when things go well, I am suspicious. I suppose complaining is my way of gloating about knowing things wouldn’t go well to begin with. Nothing like congratulating yourself on being right about shitty things, eh?
Anywho.
I function with a minimal sense of routine. Though there is a dullness in repetition, there is also, knowing there is time set aside for creative interests. I have difficulty setting aside time to do things I enjoy, if there are other tasks or responsibilities that need to be done. My Better Half suffers from the opposite affliction, and I envy him for it.
You envy your husband for needing more routine? Or because he can set aside tasks and do fun stuff instead?
I hope it’s the latter, but for everyone who outs aside tasks for fun there is someone else doing the task.
meno, definitely the latter. He has no routine, and he doesn’t sweat over details until they bite him in the ass. I get obsessed by the details and forget the importance of balancing the fun with the the not fun. There are times when the world won’t come to an end if I don’t wash the dishes.There has to be a middle ground.