Take a risk, take a chance, make a change and breakaway.

When I was a kid, I was really good at Jacks. Remember that game? You had 6 jacks and one ball. The idea was you’d go through and pick up the jacks as the ball bounced. First you’d, drop the ball and pick up one jack. Then drop the ball and pick up another. You’d go through until you picked up each one individually. You’d continue this routine through picking up 2 at a time, then 3 at a time, etc. Picking up the six was always the hardest for me because I had small hands apparently. Occasionally I’d miscalculate the ball and I’d miss it. Which meant you’d have to start over.

Each morning I have a routine. It works for me and it fits into my schedule of getting up “just in time” and not wasting any sleep. Well, I’ve miscalculated the ball. Being in a new place, my old routine isn’t working. I find myself running, almost literally, into myself trying to get ready in the morning. I almost have to laugh at how much getting ready has been on “auto pilot”. My autopilot is sick apparently. Or broken.

Thankfully work is only minutes away now and it’s not like I have a specific time I have to be here. It’s a self imposed “required” time. I like getting in early so I can leave early.

The past two days my routine has been a scatterbrain attempt of getting out the door. Now that I have stairs to contend with I try to make sure I have everything before I go down stairs. Yesterday, I forgot my shoes. Back up stairs to get my shoes. Monday it was the purse. But Monday had its own special enjoyment. I had already backed out of the garage and the garage door was already closed when I realized it. I’m just glad I wasn’t standing in Starbucks when I realized I had forgotten my purse.

Today was trash day. I’ve never had to worry about trash day (well I have since 1991). I remembered last night because the neighbors had put their cans out. (I’ll thank them later for the visual queue). This morning I knew I needed to take the recycle down with me to put out with the trash. All the way downstairs, coat, purse, shoes. Pulled the little red can out (garbage). Pulled the big blue can out – recycle. Dammit! Back up stairs to grab the recycle. Stumbling on the cat on the way up I realized I forgot to feed the beast. Okay I didn’t so much forget as he “reminded” me verbally when I re-entered the house. Feed the cat, grab the recycle, back downstairs. Got in the car, pulled back and waited to make sure the door closes all the way. I glance up and see I had left all the lights on. Bugger! Open the garage door, back inside, back up stairs. Flip. Flip. Flip. Downstairs, in the car, shut the garage door.

I’m exhausted. I kinda feel like my routine has become this game of jacks and I’m not even getting passed picking up one at a time.