Habits Breed Familiarity

 

Same is it ever was…

Ten years ago, living on a different side of town, I used to frequent a gas station most every weekday morning. This familiar place served the best coffee around, a morning copy of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel (loved their sports and food sections), and a sweet treat. I would pick out a cranberry nut muffin or a nut-topped, persian donut with butter cream frosting. The latter was almost irresistible. Every morning, Kwik Trip was home in between the real home and work. And every morning, the same male employee of this gas station was there to greet me and give me a dose of crap. I gave it back to hm. Over the course of weeks and months, I learned that his daughter lived in upper Michigan and he liked to downhill ski. He learned that I was married and a biker chick and the employee inevitably met Dyna Convertible (the Harley) one morning. We became familiar.

At some point, though, I decided that spending $5.00 a week on coffee, plus at least one or two treats a week, plus the newspaper was becoming an expensive habit. The flavored coffee that filled my cup at Kwik Trip was being brewed at the office. The peri-menopausal pounds were adding up and persians were not low-fat (yummy, yes, but not low fat). The newspaper print left on my hands every day became annoying and most of it was located on the internet for free. I quit the gas station. Cold turkey.

Several weeks later, I stopped at Kwik Trip for a cup of joe and was immediately reprimanded by above-noted male employee. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in weeks. I thought something happened to you.” He was seriously concerned.

It was at that moment I realized how familiar I had become to this employee and how much of a habit the coffee/paper/treat ritual had been. I had set the universe askew by my absence.

Same as it ever was…

Has this ever happened to you? Have you ever been a familiar figure to someone you really don’t know, who wonders where you’ve been when you take a two week vacation or a long hiatus? Does it make you think about every day habits, whether they are overly familiar to others?

Same as it ever was…

When I take mom out to lunch, we go to the same restaurant. It’s easy in and out for someone with a walker or wheel chair. The main dining room is easy for her to maneuver (unless it’s a busy holiday). The food is tasty. We have been going to Primo’s since before dad died, probably a good four or five years.

The past winter was extremely harsh. With temps below zero many days and the amount of snow and ice on roads and walkways, I did not take mom out to lunch for close to three months. Upon our triumphant return, we received the expected, “I haven’t seen you in awhile,” from a regular Saturday waitress. No, you haven’t sweetie, but it tickles me that you noticed, that we are familiar.

This Saturday was a lovely day, another opportunity for lunch with mom. I called Primo’s to make a reservation. The hostess/bartender answered.

Me: “Hello, I’d like to make a reservation for two at 12:15.” I swear she chuckled.

Hostess: “Sure, for Smith?” (I have changed the last name to protect  someone’s innocence.)

Me: “Yes.”

Hostess: “By the window?”

Me: “Yes.”

Hostess: “Okay, we’ll have a table ready.”

My voice is now familiar to the hostess. Is that a good thing or a bad thing or a kind of scary thing?

An hour later, I am helping mom get seated at our table by the window. Noel, a fabulous waitress, scurries over. The restaurant is busy and she is not wasting a moment. “Would you like anything to drink?” I ask mom if she wants a drink and mom nods in the affirmative. “Brandy Manhattan with extra vermouth?” comes from the lips of Noel. Yes, Noel. You have not waited on us in three months and you remember mom’s familiar habit…a cocktail with her dinner. You are awesome, Noel.

I was waiting for Noel to tell us what we were having for lunch without mom or I saying a word.

Same as it ever was…

Ahhhhhh….a 52 degree day…the warmth is familiar. I open the patio door. Gibbs and Ziva hear the familiar sound of the door and wake from their eternal napping habit. There is no one here to recognize me or the cats. Rather, we recognize long absent spring, gone for a year in between summer, fall and polar vortex. The three of us have not sat outside, on the patio, since October. The felines are overjoyed; they, too, have had cabin fever. Gibbs and Ziva get a closer look at the ground below, the people mulling around, and the birds that fly near. They remember what it’s like to be outside.

Cats are creatures of habit and Gibbs is no exception, he sits in his usual corner of the patio. I never know the object of his stare. Is he mad about roof shingles?

Same as it ever was…

“The truth is that everyone is bored, and devotes himself to cultivating habits.” ~Albert Camus~

Is that it? I’m bored? Is that why I listen to David Byrne every time I go for a walk by myself? On the same route? Bored?

Hmmmmmm…

Well, in that case…since I’m bored…I’m going to take my bored self to bed, lay my head on familiar pillow, and listen to a habitually snoring cat.