Routines

On the way to Atlanta, we stop for the night at a Courtyard by Marriott (paying about one-third of the published room price thanks to Priceline.com).

Once in our room, Clyde’s routine kicks in: he opens suitcases, hangs clothes, puts socks and underwear into drawers, and hides the suitcases away. He works quietly and efficiently. In the time it takes me to take a bathroom break, the task is done.

It strikes me tonight how many times he’s done this over the years. By extension, it also occurs to me how many other things he does for me every day. How many times has he cleaned the pool? How many times has he handled the breakdown of one appliance or another? How many times has he appeared at the door with exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it?

I’m the sort of person who can think of a million reasons to put things off. Unpack the suitcases? I’ll just be here for one night. I’m tired. I’ll do it after I sit down a few minutes. I’ll unpack after I watch a little t.v. Left to me, time and again, suitcases would still be sitting on the hotel room floor, unpacked.

As he does in so many other areas of life, Clyde inspires me here, too. Curled up in his arms tonight, I make a pledge to myself to stop procrastinating, starting tomorrow.