How many of us have those small habits or routines that give us a sense of stability? I can hear echoes from the past when people would say about someone else, “she’s getting old and set in her ways.” Oh, heaven forbid! My stars and garters! Is that me? And then I leap to my own defense, thinking, In this day of constant change and instability, it’s nice to hang onto something that stays the same.
The last thing my dad would do at night was wind the clock. That doesn’t make much sense to the younger generation who are accustomed to digital read-outs but we had those old-fashioned clocks that needed to be wound. The sound of Dad winding the clock was something I heard each night, familiar, comforting. It meant that the man of the house was taking care of the last chore of the day.
A friend once told me that when she swept her porch and sidewalk, she counted her swipes with the broom and always made sure she swung that broom the same number of times or her job just wasn’t complete. Now, to me that is not comforting; it’s a habit that borders on compulsion. A compulsion or a habit is an act that has us in its grip. It is the master and it is hard to break. A routine or custom is comforting and and brings a sense of security.
I like to read before I go to sleep each night. If for some reason I am unable to do that, something just isn’t right. And if the night is cold and shivery or an arthritic twinge irritates, that little corn bag that I microwave for warmth is a great comfort.
Funny thing–when the days are dark and stormy as they have been lately in my small corner of the world, I turn on every light in the house, except in the family room. In there, I turn on only the table lamps to create pools of light. Now how odd is that!
Since starting my blog, another thing that gives me comfort and joy is writing each morning, first thing. That starts my day off write (right) and is a nice routine. Of course, I don’t want to get in a rut and atrophy with sameness. I like the occasional change and excitement too as long as it is positive.
Never would I want to be known as that gray-haired writer woman who puts her cat out at precisely 9 o’clock each night, or be like Old String in Grave Shift who went about picking up every piece of string he found along the road or the person who makes coffee by always measuring the water in a certain measuring cup. Land Sakes! How much nicer to be remembered as a dedicated writer who habitually turned out best sellers from her quaint little custom of tackling the fearsome blank page each day of her life,and, of course, amassing great fortune for her efforts. Would great fortune bring me great comfort? Well, I’d like to try it and find out!
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