Are you guys sick of all my pop culture references yet? I never run out of them.

Wait for it…

I think I’ve written previously about walking around the house in circles. I know I’ve mentioned not being sure what to do with myself—an uneasiness being at home—being almost anywhere. So, I’m working on combatting that unease, or at least distracting myself. I’ve done it with patterns, habits and repetition. It leaves me less downtime, less time to let my mind wander.

Now I understand how people can become set in their ways, slaves to habit, to ritual, to rigid schedules. Fortunately I have to, and get to, travel a lot, so I can’t become completely obsessive. But when I’m home…

Since I’m by myself most of the time now, I can eat, sleep, drink, work, whenever I like. I’m sure I could have when Pete was alive too, but I had no desire to exist in a vacuum when we were together.

Now at a certain time every day, I make a cocktail and listen to music, cook dinner, take my shower, meditate, grab groceries, have my morning tea. On weekends it’s the same thing—hit up the farmer’s market, Whole Foods, take recycling. I even write this blog, generally, at the same time/day of the week.  Everybody has schedules and days for certain chores, but I can feel myself getting locked in a bit. I notice it most when I get aggravated if I have to alter the schedule.  It often feels like Groundhog Day, except that things don’t improve each time.

So, here it is, the pop culture reference:

Remember that great movie “Miracle” with Kurt Russell? He’s the coach of the Olympic hockey team that competed against the Russians 1980? Yes? Okay, remember the scene where he is really angry at them and drills them until they nearly drop? Every time their skates touch the line he yells, “AGAIN!” They repeat the drill, sweating, exhausted, nearly passing out, and still he yells  “AGAIN!” The other coaches look on nervously and still he shouts, “AGAIN!”

So, every night—after a day’s worth of exhausting rituals, I go to sleep. I wake up early, and I drowsily walk across my bedroom, I say out loud to myself, “Again.”