It’s my quotidian routine…the daily, typical details of my life, we all have.
Mine just begins at 4.
It’s what we’re used to, those buoys in the water…comforting, reassuring. Mine never change unless because of work, weather, or there’s a fella in my bed (well, stranger things have happened you know.)
Quotidian, an adjective and somewhat of an oxymoron since, it’s a fancy term for the mundane, ordinary, common and conventional occurrences that take us from A to B, conducted blindfolded if necessary, we’re so acquainted with their rhymes and rhythms…our personal pattern of unremarkable, run-of-the-mill, day-to-day activity.
It’s also the name of a very successful cafe chain in Manhattan…Le Pain Quotidian, suggesting, to frequent there often.
I embrace my routine. Going to Starbucks at 5, running at 6, saying good night to the moon at sunup. I see raccoons scampering home and cardinals in the snow. Talk about looking good in white, all replenishing, refilling my engine with Mother Nature’s quotidian, since with the exception of weather, she’s pretty constant in what she does.
How many women can you say that about?
I say hear hear to the mainstream, average, standard and unexceptional, since peace, though not featured, usually comes along for the ride.