It’s possible that I’m a creature of habit. I love holidays, friends, and festivities, but then I’m ready to get back into my daily routine, a comforting rhythm. This year, I lost my rhythm so much, I’m only now starting to feel my way back into it. It’s the middle of January, and I’m just now taking down my Christmas tree and decorations. Did we have fun? Yes, from Halloween to Martin Luther King Day. We took a trip. We had house guests. But I had work to do. I tried to write more than usual, hiding in my office at odd times. I’m making an effort to learn to facebook and twitter–foreign forms to me. My daughter changed jobs… Schedules went out the window. And now, I’m trying to regroup.
I don’t think I’d make a good adventurer. I like padding out to the kitchen in the morning, getting my cup of coffee, and plopping my fanny in front of my computer. I like writing at least one scene a day, ten pages if I can manage it. I like cleaning the house and doing laundry on Saturday. In the winter, when the snow falls, I try to cocoon. I’m a hibernator. I look out my windows and thank the heavens I’m inside. I feel all warm and fuzzy making big pots of soup. It’s not until late February that I tend to get restless. I crave sun, a vacation, a trip if I can afford one.
I have friends who leave Indiana and flee to parts unknown every year. They celebrate Thanksgiving with friends and family, then say their goodbyes. I suppose that becomes part of their routine. Life is change, and that’s good, but for right now, I’m not quite ready to make that jump. It’s January, and I want to burrow in. Nest. I want to write until my brain runs out of juices. Which it does. Usually close to four-thirty or five. After that, I can’t think of simple words in sentences. It’s time to quit.
But the work hard/take time-off mode isn’t really my thing. I like consistency. I’m a plodder at heart. I have friends whom I think of as throughbreds. They write in great gushes of inspiration and energy and turn out manuscripts bursting with passion. I’m more like an Amish draft horse, the tortoise instead of the hare. Just like everything else in my life, I like the steady-as-you-go approach. Not that life gives you that luxury. It bumps you and jostles you and MAKES you grow. There’s no way around it, but as soon as I can, I return to routine. Maybe it’s part of being a Libra. I like balance. Every day. Until I get bored. But short doses of change are more than enough to make me yearn for the tried and true once again.