Routine is something I crave, and something I sought after when I didn’t have to worry about anyone other than myself.

I think I find comfort in knowing that at a certain time I’m supposed to be doing a certain thing.  I guess routine is my comfort blanket.  But recently it’s been hard to find routine in anything.

I’m sure others think they find “routine” boring.  Where’s the excitement and adventure?  Excitement and adventure is great, but they become insignificant when they are the norm, and when they become the norm, they become routine.

I think the danger occurs when there’s nothing but routine, nothing new.  Boredom sets in, and the negativity starts to flow.

It’s always best to search for that new adventure while still holding some semblance of routine, a grove, something that’ll tie you to who you are.