A City of Habit

Every morning, I get up and heat up water for my french press. Eventually, OfficeMate and I will get into his car or my car after one of us throws out the trash and one of us (me) takes Planty outside (presuming it's a nice day) for some sunshine whilst I am at work.

As we drive through downtown's attempt at traffic, we'll pass the tricycle car giving out parking tickets. Every. Day.

After crossing the tracks, there's an old man with a newsboy cap who shuffles towards downtown with a reusable bag. He's adorable, and if it's particularly cold out, he switches things up and opts for a fluffy black hat with ear flaps. Every. Day

If we're early enough, there's a man who walks his golden retriever behind the office. He is always prepared with a friendly wave. Most Days.

We pass the house with too many lawn animals, and I wonder who put the rabbit facing the sheep's butt. Every. Day.

If a soda run is made to Exxon, the cashier knows us. "$2.03. Anything else for y'all today?" he'll ask. "No, that'll be it. Thanks. Take care." Every. Time.

If I go to the store, I fill up my Kroger gift card so that the proceeds can go to our office (Kroger Cares). Every. Time.

At night before cuddling up with a book or inadvertently falling asleep on the sofa, I make myself some tea and nibble on crystallized ginger from the Co-Op. Every. Day.

I've been here eight months. And through the simplistic monotony of it, I'm still learning.

Every. Day.