I never considered myself a fan of routines. I liked to live on the edge. You know, go to bed at 2 a.m. and wake up at 6 a.m. Not like I actually did go to bed at 2 a.m that often and usually not on purpose. However being unemployed I found that I force myself to remain consistent to some kind of 8-9 hour work day. I wake up between 7:00 a.m. and 8:00 a.m. and spend the day working on my goals (PHP, Web design) and applying for jobs. My favorite part of the day is the afternoon run I’ve scheduled in. I was always jealous of those mid-day yoga people. The kinds I would pass during a stressful lunch break or leaving work early. I secretly wanted to be them as much I openly mocked their seemingly laissez-faire existence. I’m nowhere closer to them than I was before. I’m probably more like the teen who faked being sick to stay home. Instead of staying in doors so I don’t get caught in the charade, I’m stuck crimping to save money.
This isn’t some giant ah ha moment where the clouds part and I hear angels. I know that this new found love of routine comes from fear. I don’t want to become complacent with being unemployed. I don’t want to be that person that waits too long for someone to hand me a golden ticket. If I have to become Rachel “routine to the last drop,” so be it. Just don’t call me early on the weekends.
