ROUTINE

"Things to do today: (1) get up, (2) survive, (3) go back to bed." ~ Unknown

Except for those rare people, who somehow manage to create a life where every day is different, bringing exciting adventures like skydiving or climbing Mt. Everest, and who never fall into the rut of a regular job with predictable hours and responsibilities, we all wind-up with a routine. We wake at a certain time, eat at certain times, go to work at a certain time, go to sleep at a certain time, and consider going to a new restaurant an adventure. Whenever I’ve heard people talk about having a routine, it sounds as though they think this is a bad thing. I am certainly not opposed to a surprise now and then, but, personally, I like my rut. Today’s poem is a bit about that

ROUTINE

Routine isn’t a bad thing
most of the time because
I can pretty much count on
what’s going to happen
next: my alarm goes off,
I stumble to the Keurig,
revving up to face the day.
Routine keeps expectations
and the chance of a heart
attack low, which is a good
thing, since it seems like
every day someone, some
celebrity I grew up with,
not like really grew up with
like a friend, but like famous
in my time, is dropping dead:
Tina Turner
Raquel Welch
Cindy Williams —
and every time I think,
”Damn, they’re near my age”
and start counting how
many years I might have left
assuming a tire doesn’t
fly off someone’s car
and hit me in the head,
and that number isn’t
very many, but then I
remember the parrots in
the parking lot at Starbucks
all yellow and green and squawky
breaking my daily stride
back to my car, latte in hand,
in wonder at how
refreshing a surprise
can be.