spice

I've had an epiphany today... which is that it is, in fact, consistency that is the spice of life. Yep, consistency, even to the point of monotony. Variety is overrated. Here's what I mean: These things happen to me every day (or at least multiple times every week).

1) Morning is peaceful for me because I am always the first one up in my house. I make coffee, get the paper, read email, and relax in the bliss of a house so quiet I can hear the birds chattering outside. I breathe in the heavy smell of coffee, wrap myself up in the fuzzy green bathrobe that my wonderful husband bought for me, and then I walk into the bathroom, whereupon I promptly step out of my hazy state of bliss and onto the soft bathmat. More to the point, I step directly onto the area upon which my cat has carefully selected to pee. At this point, I generally shout out g*d-d*mmit or any other chosen curse word (huh, I suppose there IS some variety here), hop about on my one unsoiled foot, grab the blasted bathmat and hobble down the hall to the washing machine, trying to walk on the heel of the soiled foot so as not to track cat pee down the hallway. After tossing the mat into the wash for the 2 millionth time this year, I notice Sammy (cat) curled up on the chair I bought for myself, which he has claimed for himself by depositing mounds of cat hair all over it, and I glare at him, repeating said cursewords, usually in a hushed voice since my husband is still snoring in the bed, and tell him in a dozen different languages that this is not okay. Then consistently, he looks at me out of one eye (since he's so relaxed in my chair that he cannot even mutter a full meow...he just kind of opens his mouth and leaks air...much less open both eyes). And, I must add, there is never a morning that I expect any of this to happen. The element of this surprise jolt out of my blissful little itty brain's happy morning is crucial.

2) I have also come to realize that following the cat pee incident in the morning, and no matter how carefully I plan, or no matter how early I or the kids get up, no matter which eye I squint or which star I wish upon, there SHALT be one task that must be done in the morning which I SHALT forget about until we arest walking outest of the door to rush to the bus stop. This happens invariably...(which means consistently) again. And again. But once again, I admit that a small taste of variety inserts itself here because the exact task that I forget varies from day to day. The one forgotten task may be, oh, the medicine that one of the kids needs to take, or Q's Nasonex, or perhaps their vitamins. Today, for instance, it was lunch for E. I just totally forgot to make her lunch so I was scrambling for enough change to buy her lunch - I had to resort to making the foray into DH's bathroom, where he dumps pockets of change amongst the ... (clutter is too civil and kind of a word) ... carnage that is his bathroom. Maybe it's that I forgot to sign one of their planners, or forgot that they needed permission slips for chess club. The consistency is that EVERY MORNING there shalt be a forgotten task. Amen.

3) Again, with the morning. After the children have been safely deposited into the yellow school bus, and after I have hurried back up the street and jumped into the minivan and am well on my way down the interstate to work, I realize that really, it would have been a good idea, given the 5 or 35 cups of coffee I had that morning, to have visited the restroom before beginning my commute. But since the van goes on autopilot as soon as I point it in the direction of work, I always drive all the way down to work, perhaps faster than legal out of necessity, after which I end up having to park at the far end of the parking lot, all crooked and out of kilter because liquid is leaking out of my eyes at this point, and after which I race into the office and fall into the bathroom, thanking the spirits of the universe that I work in a male dominated field because I would DIE if the stalls were full.

Those of you with claims to sanity may be wondering why I don't 1) keep the bathroom door shut, 2) make a list of tasks that must be completed in the morning, or 3) go to the bathroom before I drive to work. Some of you may even be muttering "dork" as you click on past this epiphanous post. Well. You must look beyond the simple solution. Beyond, see? I would explain further, but the monotony of my evening dictates to me that it is time to stumble down the hall in a near-drunken stupor, pretend to be interested in the basketball game DH is watching on TV, pretend to read whatever book is most convenient to me on my shelf, and then fall asleep. Busy night...monotonous...but spicy.