We are such creatures of habit and heaven forbid if one has to alter a well-established routine. It takes a long time and a great deal of frustration just to change the time of day when we take our medications.
It’s the mundane tasks that are entrenched in our psyche: when and how we brush our teeth, get to work, what direction the toilet paper rolls, when we feed the pets, and, oh yes, where we sit in church.
I grew up knowing people chose certain places to sit every Sunday, and if someone new mistakenly sat in a ‘reserved’ spot, they were eyeballed and grumbled at, as the pastor preached about patience and forgiveness.
I’m not against having a favorite place, but it seems a bit boring, if not safe, to sit next to the same people all the time, or look at the same side of the minister’s face every week.
There are some good things about repetitive actions. I like not having to think about where the refrigerator is in the house. What if it were moved every two days? I’d be stumbling around the house trying to figure out if I had put it in the laundry room, or the second bedroom, or outside! That would be frustrating.
A few years ago I decided to see if I could change on which wrist I wore my watch. Took me a while to make the transition, and I got so I could wear it on either wrist. But, I became somewhat confused as to which one I had it on, I kept looking at both. Now I don’t wear one at all.
My doglets are a picture of routine. I tell what time it is by their various insistencies. Feed them once at 6:05 and that is meal time from now on. At 5:15 p.m. they are waiting at the door to go for a walk. If you don’t get the message, one of them sits and stares at you, and the other one pants very loudly. Maybe my next dog I will name Habit.
I will continue parting my hair on the same side, trying to find the same lipstick color I loved as a senior in high school, and listening to that rock ‘n roll music I bopped to in 1960. Don’t you just love routine? Some habits are just not meant to break.