The rhythm of my day

There is a rhythm to my day that creates a pleasant, predictable structure in which to fit all the unexpected and spontaneous events that come flying at me.

An acquaintance of mine was complaining recently about the “sameness” of the days - tasks done today that will need redoing tomorrow. She commented that the repetitiveness “sucks”.

I admit there are times when I look at the dishes on the counter and think “didn’t I just wash those??”. But as I was going about my morning chores I reflected on her comments and decided my perspective differs from hers.

For me, “sameness” is comforting – it is what keeps me sane. I know that each day when I get up I need to make the bed and feed the dogs, feed the pigs and chop up their veggies and scoop their poop, feed the alpaca and deliver his hay, walk the dogs and tidy the kitchen. Sometimes I have to rush through the tasks, and the days I enjoy most are the ones when I can just plod through them mindlessly – it gives me my “thinking and planning” space. But even on those days when I am rushed, the routine is satisfying to me.

So, too, is the routine at the end of the day – feeding, mucking, walking, tidying. The moment when dusk falls and I close up the barn, and I spend a few minutes sitting in the straw with the piggies, giving them belly rubs and singing Scotch his favourite song, I feel the tensions of the day slip away. I love returning to the house from the barn, turning on lights, pulling the drapes and shutting out the world, knowing that even if I haven’t accomplished all I intended that day, it is time to wind down. It is a time to reflect on what has been achieved and to set the next day’s priorities. I may still do some chores like laundry or returning emails or prepping for classes, but it is all familiar, comforting, repetitive work.

There are times I wish there were more hours in the day or more days in the week or more hands to help, but that is because of all the unpredictable, spontaneous, once in a while, fit-it-in sorts of chores like fences to be fixed and dogs to be vetted and cars to be repaired. The routine, the mundane, the regular, I can handle. It is what holds the rest of the chaos neatly in place. It is the frame to my life’s portrait.