“Let me guess,” the dull-eyed teenager said from behind the counter. “A large number one, to go, with two tacos and a thing of tarter sauce.” I blinked. “You come in here enough,” the kid continued. “We know it by now.”
That really put things in perspective.
I’ve always been a creature of habit, and I am more than aware of it. It has been brought to my attention by enough friends and girlfriends. I’ve all but posted my agenda on the little white board on my refrigerator door:
6:00 AM: Get out of bed
7:00 AM: Get to the office
9:00 AM: First soda of the day
12:00 PM: Go to the gym
1:00 PM: Et cetera
My natural inclination towards scheduling was something I battled when I was young enough to smell like fry grease and make snarky comments to regular customers. After all, routines are something for adults. What the young man with no sense of pride in his Jack in the Box t-shirt/uniform reminded me of is that I am, in fact, an adult now. I haven’t spiked my hair in years. I don’t understand the appeal of “reality TV”. I don’t understand how my computer works.
This should probably scare me more than it does. But I suppose aging is nothing more than when you stop pretending to be something you’re not. My schedule comforts me in a way that is hard to describe.
Wait. No it isn’t. My schedule just means I don’t have to think about anything. Thinking is for teenagers. Why didn’t I think of that sooner?
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