Relative Something

As I was going through my usual work-week routine last night, preparing my breakfast and lunch for today, this is what I observed: I have a tendency for routine. Every night before work, I take steps to support my quick departure the next morning at an early hour to beat traffic in my long commute to the far side of the Twin Cities.

In the morning, all I need to do is get dressed and go, after waking and going through my planking and stretching routine. My clothes were selected the night before and my breakfast and lunch foods prepared in advance.

My process for preparing my foods for the workday is equally routine.

I precisely measure my serving of cereal for the morning breakfast to stay below my threshold for added sugar. The amount of yogurt that I serve with my cereal is only a fraction of the amount in a typical “single serving” package. There is a perfect-sized spoon I like to use for this small serving of yogurt.

Since I do this routine repeatedly, I don’t simply put the spoon in with dirty dishes when I am done with it. I wash the spoon and place it back in the silverware drawer, but not just anywhere. I slip it beneath all the other various spoons of that style so I can be sure to find it the next day.

Some have a smaller scoop. Some have longer handles. Those aren’t the ones I want.

I do this because, if I leave it right on top, the odds are high that Cyndie will take it next time she is looking for a spoon.

Seems simple enough at this point, I hope. However, this plan doesn’t always produce the desired results.

Very often, when I reach in to grab “my spoon,” it’s not there on the bottom anymore.

Why not?

I’ve talked with Cyndie about it, and she has no clue.

In my head, I picture her reaching in and grabbing whatever spoon is on top at the time. This shouldn’t mix the order enough to dislodge my carefully stowed particular spoon.

Must be some other mysterious law of physics I know nothing about.

Now, by this point, you must be imagining any number of easy alternative solutions to avoiding this problem of keeping track of one specific spoon. I could tie a ribbon on the handle. I could place it in a different location away from the other spoons.

I know.

But, honestly, this situation doesn’t even deserve the number of words I’m wasting on it here. If I seriously fretted over this, I could easily come up with a more permanent solution. It’s become more of a game for me to see if the spoon will be there, or not.

I’m intrigued by the odd phenomenon.

And look, it provided fodder for another of my ROUTINEs: writing a daily blog post.

Obviously, I have a tendency for routine.

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