So… the past year has been a year not of routine but of lost routine. I seem to have misplaced most of them. I mean they’re probably laying around my apartment somewhere, but I can’t find them. I haven’t written anything of note in a year—with the exception of a failed proposal or two for work. I somehow managed to even stop the once-mandatory routine of exercising substantially every day. Now it’s like twice a week, but barely. I don’t cook consistently, and I kind of eat like shit.
And now my lack of routines somehow is its own routine. If I don’t go grocery shopping on Sunday, then I will persist on frozen food for the week, no matter how dire. I basically don’t see my friends outside of work unless it’s part of a routine, like my weekly Bachelorette cult on Wednesdays.
Because of this, my life is flying by. My brother got married. My friends are engaged and doing fun things on Instagram. My parents travel the world. And I’m just sitting here thinking about moving to DC and even talking about it to anyone that’ll listen for some reason. I tell myself that change is good and that I need to try something different. But then I tell myself that I have so many friends here, and that my friends in DC will probably move soon anyway, so why rock the boat? But it’s not like I actually see them that much. So besides a traumatic move, I don’t think my life will be that different. There’ll still be shitty traffic, but I’ll just be colder during the fall and winter and hotter during the summer.
But work has been going well, and so now my Routine has mostly been focused on that. And this is sad, because I know my Past Self would give me the proverbial finger wag and my Past Self would tell me to prioritize my life better. Like there’s that novelette I never quite finished and there’s that NYC marathon I said I’d try and qualify for and there’s all that other stuff I should actually get around doing.