Quotes About Routine

A school morning is usually a pretty hectic time in any household.

I simply love doing household chores and cooking.

Housekeeping is like being caught in a revolving door.

One thing in space, just like home: you cannot escape housework. Every Saturday is clean-the-station day.

Seat assignment didn't matter if you're flying Dallas to Houston and you did it 38 times a day. People just got on, you didn't sit next to your wife, and it was a 45-minute flight. It didn't matter.

I could count on one hand how many times I've worked out.

I think the most hectic time in my house is about six o'clock in the morning, our sausage dog starts howling and barking and scratching to wake us all up - no alarms needed.

I think exercise is a huge part of structuring each day.

Love of, and respect for, the humble routine of everyday life and its creatures was the only moral commandment which carried conviction when I was a child.

I do a couple of hundred press-ups a day but I haven't been to a gym in years.

I don't really get into a writing routine until March or April, when I'll write a few hundred words a day, often in a cafe in the morning after the school run.

The Captain's boat inspections were always pretty slapdash, because they mainly just involved him looking at the ropes and planks and barnacles and then nodding to show that he approved of whatever they happened to be doing.

He hadn't abused alcohol, but had spent almost four years sitting in a chair drinking jug wine around the clock and looking, variously, at the wall, the window blind, and the TV screen.

I'm not someone who can be depended one five days a week. Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday? I don't even get out of bed five days in a row-I often don't remember to eat five days in a row. Reporting to a workplace, where I should need to stay for eight hours-eight big hours outside my home- was unfeasible.

How predictable, how perfectly average, how amusing.

Winter. No one likes winter." "It gets dark early, I like that." "Why?" Because that means the day has ended. I like checking days off a calendar—151 days crossed and nothing truly horrible has happened. 152 and the world isn't ruined. 153 and I haven't destroyed anyone. 154 and no one really hates me.

I'm not someone who can be depended on five days a week. Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday? I don't even get out of bed five days in a row—I often don't remember to eat five days in a row.

Downstairs, I could hear the return of a long-lost sound: Amy making breakfast. Banging wooden cupboards (rump-thump!), rattling containers of tin and glass (ding-ring!), shuffling and sorting a collection of metal pots and iron pans (ruzz-shuzz!). A culinary orchestra tuning up, clattering vigorously toward the finale, a cake pan drumrolling along the floor, hitting the wall with a cymballic crash.

I'd come to find the morning depressing, to know it would come again and again.

My eyes flipped open at exactly six A.M. This was no avian fluttering of the lashes, no gentle blink toward consciousness. The awakening was mechanical. A spooky ventriloquist-dummy click of the lids: The world is black and then, showtime! 6-0-0 the clock said -in my face, first thing I saw. 6-0-0. It felt different. I rarely woke at such a rounded time. I was a man of jagged risings: 8:43, 11:51, 9:26. My life was alarmless.

We are all working from the same dog-eared script.

Women without imagination. So they stayed in Wind Gap and played their teenage lives on an endless loop.

I'd come to find the morning depressing, to know it would come again and again.

6-0-0. It felt different. I rarely woke at such a rounded time. I was a man of jagged risings: 8:43, 11:51, 9:26. My life was alarmless.