*Chair Squeals* Well it's been a week since I got that cold thing I was talking about last time. I was looking through the log sheets I built to keep track of my progress on my goals for this year and there's eight days missing inexplicably. Actually that's the wrong word. It's easy to explain but if I were a spinning top right now I'd be wobbling pretty hard right now.
I find routines to be important. When I manage to do something for a few weeks in a row I feel like I'm making real changes in my life. I feel like things are happening. These reinforcing good feelings only get better as times goes on because I can't actually remember the individual moments of each day anymore. If memory is like a pen placing dots on a page as it rolls by, then my pen isn't dotting as often anymore and I can feel it. My replacement for this is to make each day as similar as possible so there's less I have to remember. If every day is the same then I can start to remember the differences instead of having to remember every part of the day.
Except that it seems that every time I get a good routine going, a cold comes along and shoves all of that aside and throws it in the garbage. I have no idea what is happening in my life right now because I haven't followed any of the usual routines for a week and a half. My dotting pen can't even find the page to dot on these days. And no amount of routine can fix the fact that when my alarm goes off I'm simply rolling over and going back to bed. Cold, I shake my fist at you.