I’m like a baby.
I don’t mean because I whine and cry and throw tantrums. I do, but that’s not where I’m heading here.
My routines are that of an infant. That’s probably exaggerated for dramatic narrative effect. And it’s certainly a subjective assessment. But let me make the case.
From what I understand babies need structure and routine. This has traditionally been my struggle. I’m wired up for creative thought, and not naturally inclined to adhere to logic and reason. If I spent ten minutes a day cleaning my condo it would always been pretty spotless. That’s logical. But for some reason I don’t.
Give me a blank piece of paper and I can crank out hundreds of words on a random topic. This skill set is not particularly useful doing routine tasks that must be completed.
In order to compensate for this natural deficiency, I’ve built in routines that keep me structured and disciplined.
For example I know that if I don’t burn several hundred calories a day I’m going to be a pain in the ass to everyone. I just have extra energy that needs to go. My solution is to ride my bike to work.
Even though it’s an physically demanding adult task, there is something child-like about getting on a bicycle and riding to work. I feel much like a child with my helmet and my backpack. It’s a funny scene to me.
Then, when I get home after the ride back, I’m usually exhausted. And hungry. So I make myself something healthy because that’s the disciplined, healthy thing to do. But if I don’t portion out my dinner I’ll eat way too much. This is what usually happens.
After I’ve eaten too much for dinner I feel tired. I tell myself I need to “meditate.” I actually believe I’m going to do this, but the truth is, it’s me lying down in bed and passing out. I’m like a mother putting her baby to bed after a feeding. I think I’m going to just go unconscious for fifteen minutes and wake up rejuvenated.
Ninety minutes later I awake groggy. Then I remember I never put the leftover food away or cleaned up the countertop, so I hustle to get those items done, brush my teeth and then back in bed.
This is my daily routine. It’s not particularly goofy or destructive. The worst decision I make is to eat an extra few hundred calories at dinner which forces me to pass out. It’s not like I’m posting ads on Craigslist looking for Russian call girls.
Are guys still doing the Russian mail-order bride thing? I feel like we haven’t heard about that stuff in a decade. There should be a reality show with dudes and their mail order brides. We could call it “Natasha C.O.D” – since all Russian women are named Natasha. I believe that could get ratings.
I’m proud of the structure I’ve created in my life to get things done. I just never realized I would feel so much like a child doing these routines. I wonder if the tide will ever turn and I’ll feel like an adult. Probably when I have kids. Of course, I’m going to order Russian kids from the same agency I get the wife. Then we’ll pitch “Mail Order Family” to TLC. I think I could sell it.