Routine behavior

There is something comforting and steadying in a routine. I have been out of my normal one a bit this week, so I have come to appreciate my smaller routines even more. Similarly, I have come to appreciate the constants in my life that bring me peace.

I have been rising and heading out of the house earlier than usual, and as you have probably encountered, altering your normal day is sometimes difficult. That said, my morning routine is fairly regular. I set the alarm for 45 minutes before I wake up (I hit the snooze 5 times), I venture out to the living room, and get ready for work. I pick out my clothes, look at my schedule for the next day, and lay out the items that I need to take the next day the previous night. I do this to make my life a little easier.

This is even more important when I am up earlier. If I don’t pick out my clothes, invariably I can’t find anything to wear, and if I do it needs to be ironed or mended. If I don’t place the items that I need to take with me in a designated spot, I have to rush around looking for them and end up frantic and harried once I finally find them (usually in an obvious place that I overlooked). I find that these routines allow me to relax and get ready for work in a leisurely way.

Outside of my routines are the things that are consistent throughout my life. I know that the cats will greet me in a predictable way: Sam and Brownie first, Gov next, and Wesley when he ascertains that I am, indeed, going to feed them all. I know that the bathroom sink drips; it used to be an annoyance but now I’ve come to expect the drip-drip-drip that I will hear until the leak is fixed. I know where the cereal is, and usually what will be on the radio when I start the car. I know at 8:30am everyone will be wanting coffee, so I should either leave a little earlier or make it at home.

Things like these, though seemingly small at the time, comfort me. I can go through my day and know that, even if some things are changing rapidly, and others will be surprises, there are still some things that I have come to expect, that won’t be changing any time soon. That alone is enough to make me happy most days.

KISS more, fret less

I’m a big fan of the KISS (keep it simple, um, sweetie) method of solving problems, and I recently got yet another chance to flex my problem solving muscles in the spirit of KISS. The charm in the concept is that it forces us to look at things in a bare-bones way, eliminating the drama and any proverbial middlemen we may encounter.

This week I had to deal with a situation which was just as funny in hindsight as it was at the time. On Saturday I sought to continue my ongoing efforts to reorganize the house, and being the frenetic person that I am, I spent part of my day off tidying up and purging items we had no use for, this time in the bathroom–a daunting project to say the least, with toiletries and cleaning supplies that had lived in our house longer than I had.

I came to realize as I moved forward that many of the items were of the “not quite sure where to put this” ilk, and had ended up in the w.c. due to the fact that it simply contained more storage space than other areas of the house. During my adventures I ran across several packets of catnip with varying levels remaining, which gave me a chuckle because we have purchased (and not emptied) several packets of catnip in recent years, apparently oblivious to the wealth of nip that we had on hand.

The catnip didn’t fit into my scheme for the shelf, so I moved it down one shelf, proceeding to put some of our excess supplies, including toilet and facial tissue, on the shelf formerly occupied by the catnip. Naive person that I am, I thought nothing of it.

Fast forward to a few days later, and Art and I returned home to find a pile of white fluff and a cardboard tube just below where the spare roll of toilet tissue had been, the middle of which was occupied by a rather happy feline (not the original culprit, mind you, but a very willing accomplice). The roll on the dispenser remained untouched. At first glance, we couldn’t figure out what the problem might be, as our cats had never shredded toilet tissue before, not even as kittens.

While watching TV it suddenly dawned on me that the residual “essence of catnip” was to blame. The spare roll was the first one to be exposed to the former catnip shelf. Laughing to myself, I set out to find a solution that we all could live with.

Solution 1: Put the spare role of toilet tissue in a different location away from prying paws (no dice; it was soon located in its new home and subsequently dispatched with equal zeal. And before long, the current roll would also come under fire). Solution 2: Leave the spare roll in the cabinet until it was time to use it (not feasible; we don’t use it quickly enough to stop the siege from happening when we’re away at work). Solution 3: Close the bathroom door during the day (not really a good idea; the cat box is in the bathroom and our cats become unruly when their routines are disrupted). Solution 4: Get rid of the cats (just kidding). And so it went.

As I thought through and tried various solutions (including eventually solving the problem by–Eureka!–moving the toilet tissue to a different storage shelf), it struck me that the catnip/toilet tissue problem was much like any problem in life. It involved individuals (Myself, Art, Gov, Sam, Wesley and Brownie…well, mainly Me, Wesley and Brownie); it needed an expeditious solution that is convenient for all parties; and was best resolved by considering the options, perhaps trying them out, and picking the one that seemed to work the best.

Granted, most problems in life don’t deal with catnip, but if I can tackle this one, I felt I could tackle any problem if I viewed it through my KISS lens. And you can bet I’m more than prepared for the repercussions when the facial tissues need restocking.