This morning I got up at 6 instead of 5:30, still went to the gym, had breakfast, got a shower, packed lunch, and made the 7:40ish bus downtown with R. But in the process of compressing my routine into a smaller nugget so that I get a bigger morsel of sleep, I managed to forget: my phone, my watch, and the book I’m reading on the train.

Now my entire DAY is probably going to be impacted by the fact that I don’t have at least one of these three things. In fact, I’m WRITING about it here. I walked by a completely empty & thusly discarded roll of toilet paper on the sidewalk outside of a burger joint in Rockridge this morning, but NO, I’m so interrupted that I can’t even write about THAT.

What’s the point? Jesus hates me. And this invective is a little bit more about pointing out the importance/significance that our routines hold, and, had I the time this morning, I’d contrast that against the idea that Johnstone purports about people going to dramatic productions in order to SEE these routines interrupted, in order to see people do things they can’t do because they’re locked in their routines. Like, I could write a short story (albeit a bad one) about how bad my day could be because I forgot three things I normally always have with me, and someone could turn that into a one-acter or even a 10 minute improvised scene. Acted properly & with the right kind of director that’s sensitive to these neuroses, you would be riveted (or at least enjoy it minorly whilst eating some Red Vines).