Today began different than a usual Sunday, with the first flutter of eyelids. We were sleeping in — a glorious sleep-in on a Sunday, unheard of since I started going to church 7 years ago.
The Husband has been up late nearly every night for the last three weeks working on our porch: Stripping off old aluminum siding, repairing the siding beneath and preparing it for a new coat of paint, painting, painting, stripping old paint off the wood floor, painting, stripping more paint off the wood floor, painting the ceiling, removing blue paint from the cat, and then removing blue paw prints from a freshly stripped floor… you get the idea.
While he works at that, everything that usually resides on the porch is in the living room. Also while he works at that, we cannot enjoy our porch as we normally do 75% of the time during spring and summer, including all mealtimes. It doesn’t feel normal that it is sunny and 75 degrees outside and we are drinking coffee in the dark dining room…staring at our porch furniture in the living room.
So this morning when The Husband didn’t have to play drums in church (yes, that is normal), we both took the day off. We slept in, until the extravagant hour of 8am when he had to get up to return the floor sander rented last evening from those evil people in orange smocks. What a wild life we lead.
The routine really went off the rails when I was going through my bathing repertoire and found myself doing things out of order. I actually “harrumphed” to myself when I realized it.
I puttered, straightened the house (as best I could within a construction zone), folded laundry that came out of the dryer just yesterday (a new record), chatted with neighbors, walked the dog, got ready to go to an early dinner, shopped for groceries on the way home, and generally felt both well rested and efficient. I even ate ice cream.
Then I got a weird feeling. Weird like sleeping in on a Sunday when I’m usually at church. Weird like I’m doing my shower routine in the wrong order. Weird like it’s 8pm on a Sunday and I haven’t written my blog post.
Weirder yet…I didn’t think about it once today. Not even when I opened my laptop to randomly look up shoes online. I’m usually much more conscientious.
One tiny change to the day’s routine was all it took. Or, maybe it was the continuous weeks of interrupted household routine, with the porch construction zone, my husband turning into “that guy who works on my porch,” and the obstacle-course living room.
I love the outcomes of these house projects, but the weeks (sometimes months) of discombobulation can be slow torture for a creature of habit (I know, First World Problem.)
I do much better on a routine.
