bedroom   Many people find, or at least believe, that routine is a key to getting stuff done. Housework, for example: you have these regular things you do when you clean your house every day or week, so it’s always clean.

I’ve even had people say to me, in the context of work in previous jobs, “I see you’re getting into the routine,” in an approving way.

I loathe routine, and have never, when someone said that to me, agreed with them.

There may be negative consequences to this attitude.

I may not tolerate routine well, but I do rather like ritual ands rhythm, so that’s how I manage the little housekeeping I do.

In January I set goals and think about my health and stuff like that. In February I pay attention to my bedroom and also to my marriage. March is my birthday month, and I notice my wardrobe and check my goals. April is for gardening and seeing to my kids’ needs. bedroom2

And so on through the year, with each issue in my life and world coming up at some point, so that in theory I will have paid attention to everything and gotten it back on track at least once during the year.

So it is that I have been paying some attention to my bedroom.

I made that bedspread, and did some pillow stuff, though I may do more. I’m going to get #1 daughter’s opinion when she comes over today. This is a pretty, romantic bedroom, but I am a married woman and I have a husband. So my charming flower-shaped teapots (#1 daughter gave them to me) share shelf space with my husband’s pool trophies and a big ugly TV set.

I think I’m fortunate that my husband doesn’t mind flowers and Pre-Raphaelite prints. I’m not going to complain about his trophies.

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I may need a new mattress, though. #1 daughter says I need a pillow top — that may be the wrong word, actually. It might be cheaper than a new mattress, whatever it is.

I might also need (for some value of the word “need”) a smaller TV. A white one rather than a black one. I think they make them in pink, in fact.

And I should probably clean the room throughly while I’m about it. I remember once hearing someone talk about the feeling of going into a high-end hotel room. How pretty and peaceful it is, how serene it feels — and then imagine all your stuff in it. Your pool league trophies, I think, and clothing needing to be put away, and such.

Yesterday I noticed that I had 44 books on my NetGalley shelf, and had reviewed 17. I have a lot of reading to do. I went to the Evil Palace of Books and roamed around a bit but did not buy any books there, and also went to the fabric store and bought nothing there. I bought some things at the grocery store, but nearly everything there contains one or more of the Evil 6, so that was not very entertaining.

So I came home and read and knitted some more of #1 daughter’s scarf. I talked on the phone with #2 daughter and #1 son came over and had a look at the logos our graphics guy made for him and we had pizza, which is of course filled with the Evil 6.

Today is church, and #1 daughter’s and my business meeting, and then we’re going to a play. After that, I should either read more stuff or clean house, or some combination of the two. I also have to write for my Aussies. If I had a proper work routine, of course, I’d already have written for them.