Routine? Never Heard of Her.
May 28, 2025
Oh, how easy it would be to lie right now.
You know, give you the polished version - the one where I’m a functioning adult with willpower, discipline, and a soul-deep commitment to crushing my goals.
“I’ve stuck to my new routine every single day! I’m absolutely killing it. I feel like a whole new person. One day at a time? Life-changing. Magical. Transformational.”
Ha! Yep. Nope. Nooope.
You want the truth?
Okay. Deep breath. Gritted teeth. Slight wince.
Here it comes.
The goddamn truth.
Look, the intention was there. It really was. I had this simple, doable list - just a few manageable tasks I promised myself to tackle every single day. One day at a time, that was the plan. And for three glorious, shining days...I actually did them.
Three. Solid. Days.
By day three, I was glowing with potential. Truly. You should have seen me. I was in it.
And then… yep. I fell off. Again.
Now? I can’t even remember half the things I committed to. But let’s start with the ones I do remember.
First up: getting up between 6:00 and 6:30am.
And hey, my alarm does go off at that time. So technically… I’m showing up. Kind of.
But in my defence, I’m barely conscious when I hit snooze for the fourth time. How am I meant to make life choices in that state?
Exercising every day? Surprisingly, I’ve sort of nailed that one. And yes, I’m counting walking - and not just the kind that ends at the fridge.
No drinking? Ehhhhhh. Let’s circle back to that.
Four hours of deep-focus work daily? I mean... let’s call it “four hours of work.” That’s enough words. Tick.
Less caffeine? Hmm. Some days? Maybe?
And now, it’s half-term.
(I swear I was just writing about the Easter holidays like… two weeks ago?)
Time is weird.
In completely unrelated but somehow very related news: I’ve always had this whimsical little dream about staying in one of those little static caravans by the sea. You know, cozy family vibes, sea breeze, fish and chips, emotional resets...
So naturally, I did what I always do when someone says, “We just had the loveliest little break.”
I got tired of working and impulsively booked a random holiday park.
Do I check where we’re actually going?
No.
Do I plan what we’ll need?
Also no.
Do I consider who’s going to feed the cat while we’re gone?
What cat?
In my head, holidays are spontaneous and carefree. We just pack a bag, hop in the car, and cruise off into the sunset without having to think about anything.
Except… reality.
Two days before we’re supposed to leave, Luke goes:
“What’s happening with Loki?”
(Loki = our cat, our furry dependent.)
Cue me blinking slowly, like I’ve just been booted back into this dimension, suddenly remembering that yes, we do in fact own a cat.
Too late to book a cattery.
So naturally, I panic-text my friend: “Heyyy… any chance you can keep our cat alive while we vanish on a disorganised seaside escape?”
Miraculously, she said yes. Absolute legend.
I now owe her my undying gratitude....and possibly a kidney.
Then the night before, Luke goes:
“Where are we actually going? And what do we need to take?”
And I’m like: Excellent question. If only someone had thought of that sooner.
Cue: frantic Googling, panicked packing, a chaotic dash to the shops, and desperate hopes there’s a supermarket near where we're staying - because let’s be honest, something important didn’t make it into the bag.
Also cue: me cleaning the entire house like it’s about to be featured in Ideal Home, because I can’t have my friend thinking we actually live like... this.
So no, I didn’t stick to my routine perfectly. Not even close.
And sure, I may have forgotten about the cat. But I did remember the kids - so hey, that’s something, right?
Look, life happens. Routines fall apart. Brains forget things.