Predictable

PREDICTABLE: expected

Give me a day of the week and a time of day and I can tell you in relatively precise terms what I was doing.  I don’t have an amazing memory; I have a predictable weekly routine.

Son gets to school in a different way each day of the week, so differentiating between morning routines is essential.  Tuesdays are different from Thursdays, but each Tuesday is virtually identical to the Tuesday before.  Over the years, I’ve found that assigning tasks to specific days of the week helps me track all the moving parts in our family and home.  My relatively rigid routine helps me stay on top of things.

When I show up at the grocery store on a Wednesday, the produce guy actually questions what I’m doing there.  You see, I am a 5:30 am Monday morning grocery shopper.  I like the night shift crew – they treat me like a novelty item.  I’m sober, with a cart full of produce and I don’t shoplift.  Sure, I have to name each produce item for the cashier who is more familiar with the processed “I’ve got the munchies” offerings of the store than the difference between kale and collard greens.  But, it’s a price I’m willing to pay for the ease of grocery shopping without children.

My week is full of time points and rituals.  I make beds while the kids eat breakfast.  I shower during Cat in the Hat.  I prep dinner during afternoon naps.  We clean up toys and set the table when Husband makes his “I’m on the bus” phone call.  Sundays I review recipes and draft the weekly menu.  Thursdays I do my Cinderella impression – floors, laundry, etc.  Fridays I put on my super-mom cape (it looks a lot like a black raincoat) and attempt to accomplish a week’s worth of work, errands and phone calls.

Usually, I find the predictable rhythm of the week soothing.  But today I’m feeling stir-crazy.  I want an adventure.

This is the kind of day when I google (we can all agree that’s a verb now, right?) Bed and Breakfasts for sale in New England, read tips on moving your family to a foreign country, check the total mileage on the Appalachian Trail, or research the ideal goat for urban living.

I know this will pass.  I’ll find a way to scratch my itch for adventure without running away or buying livestock.  I’ll go out with friends for a night on the town.  Try a different running route.  Visit my college town.  Lose myself in a good book.

Heck, maybe I’ll get really wild and do my shopping on Tuesday next week.

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