Recently, my routine changed for the 2nd time in six months.
Like cold, I love mornings, and I love morning routines. When I was in high school (a topic I keep revisiting – which, like the good Canadian I am, I apologize for. Oh, and I apologize for mentioning the Canadian thing – which I did above. Sigh. I can’t win)…
Anyway, when I was in high school, I went to school early and stayed late because, well, I was freaking Suzy High School and really enjoyed that stuff. Despite my arriving hours before the majority of my classmates to empty hallways before the sun rose, I always woke up 2 hours before that, and not because I was a normal high school girl and cared about my appearance or anything (Ed. note: HA!). No, instead I woke up every morning, made myself 2 eggs, toast and a coffee, and read both the Calgary Herald and the National Post before slapping some mascara on and heading to school,
I WAS THAT GIRL.
Fast forward 10+ years (ugh) and it’s the same thing. I’m up at early for a run (sometimes), breakfast (most times) and checking in on Gawker (every time), no matter what time I’m do for the day’s adventures. I spend an hour puttering about my house, sipping my java and flitting about the interwebs, before I mosey out of my apartment to hop on the trolly – gosh I love trollies – and head towards my day. Lately, I’ve been reading American Psycho, which is ironic considering the US debt rating was downgraded a few hours ago and I can never tell the make or model of a suit (or a psycho).
I hop off the train, quickly locking eyes with the (I assume) start-up worker across the aisle from me, dressed in the local uniform of deliberately aged jeans and a hoodie, who tilts his head. This morning, the girl working at the coffee shop I’ve been visiting for my second cup comped my large drip coffee with a bit of soy and I was taken aback. It was a nice gesture, and when I insisted, she just smiled and said it was on her.
I’m comforted by small moments with the folks I see every morning. I like the routine.