Routine

I used to despise routine. It meant you were boring. Old. Not Fun. Routine was the anti-excitement. And excitement was everything. Then somewhere along the way...
Today I arrived at the still unopened Tamale Shoppe and unlocked the front door, walked to the electric panel and flipped on the lights, then I went through the patio and unlocked the back gate. Then to the dumpsters and unlocked them (another time I'll tell you why the dumpsters are locked). There was something incredibly comforting as I unlocked the dumpsters. I realized it was routine. This was the third day in a row I had followed this 'routine', unlock the front door, flip on the lights, unlock the back gate and then unlock the dumpsters.
It felt really good. This thing called routine that I have rebelled against since youth was now a friend. As I flung the lid open on the recycling dumpster I contemplated why this routine was so comforting.
I thought of coming home at night and feeding your dog. Brushing your hair in the morning. Turning on the night lights. Some is necessary (feeding the dog) some is optional (putting on the night lights) but they all comfort us. I'm not sure what it is about routine that works, but it does.
Now, I'm still one to go after the excitement, the adventure, I'll never be complacent, but I've realized that routine and complacency are two different things. One of them, I like.