Hanging Your Hat

Never thought I’d say it. But I’m glad to be where I am and have somewhere I can call home.

By that I mean closer to where I need to be.

Read a study some time ago. One of the most stressful things to finding work is not having roots. A base.

I agree whole heartedly. Not just for finding work though.

Being settled in one place where you can establish some kind of routine is pure comfort.

A place to hang your hat.

There’s no place like home.

Routine Realized

Simple as it sounds do we adhere to it?

Reminders scribbled down in the day timers. For the old fashioned folk like me that still prefer the handwritten kind.

Lists are penned. Prioritized inside the noggin.

But when it gets down to it. What’s done isn’t always there.

It’ll start like this: what needs to get done, what has to be done, and oh yeah - what I really feel like doing right now.

Really.

So it goes. The day beats on. Time trickles upward.

Days pass into weeks. The b/f (bring/forward) re-writes sketch in. Again.

Trembled by focus the peripheral vision outside the cortex of our minds is blended by the fact we are social beings.

Did I work out today? Have I met the necessary family obligations for the day? Has the dog had three walks?

Festered by due diligence the circle equates to this:

Did I meet my financial obligations this week?

Controlled by money our lives resemble a week of time. Devoted to what matters most. Work.

Get up. Work. Come home. Sleep. Get up. Go to work. Come home. Sleep. Get up… and so on.

Until the weekend arrives. For most an excuse to be. To do. Whatever.

Then Sunday comes along and we’re back.

To the routine realized.