I pretend I’m bohemian. I pretend I go with the flow, devil may care, come what may.
The truth? I like routine.
That’s right. I admit it. I like rhythms, the ostinato beat of sitting in my chair at a certain time every day to write, a certain time to read blogs, a certain time to do laundry or clean the toilets (which, granted, happens much more infrequently than the former items). I have tea every afternoon at a certain time. And if you call during one of my certain times, I may not answer the phone. I don’t indulge interruptions.
This is not to say that I’m any good at planning or organizing. My husband has suggested meal planning to help us out. It’s a good idea, I agree. But I can’t seem to get that together. I see how the whole planning and organized thing can be helpful. For example, we finally made a master packing list for our camping trips–food, toiletries, bedding, etc. We refer to it for every trip, but it hasn’t motivated me to extend this idea to other areas of life.
But I digress (surprise, surprise).
These past couple of months have been a lesson in digression. Between family events (and emergencies), fun travel, the celebratory chaos of the holidays (and its accompanying company), not to mention pregnancy and the preparation for Baby G, my life resembles more an Ornette Coleman piece than a bolero.
Don’t get me wrong. I like Ornette Coleman’s music. He revolutionized jazz. We need revolutions. But I miss ordinariness these days. After years of learning how to live and be in the ordinariness of life, I miss it when it’s gone. My writing’s suffered lately without a routine to guide it.
But now I must learn interruptions, too. After all, Christ interrupted the ordinariness of the world on Christmas day with the incarnation. These days, bedroom furniture interrupts my living room as we await new carpeting to prepare for Baby G. In approximately six or so weeks, the child I’ve been cuddling in my belly will interrupt into every area of my life.
And yet, this interruption will too become ordinary–changing diapers, washing multiplied loads of laundry, feedings (midnight and otherwise). And my routine? I guess I’ll have to find a whole new groove.
