How am I not myself?

I have fallen into someone else's routine.

I didn't realize it until today - but it is certainly true. Once again it is proven that no one is their own person, we are all mere puppets in the game of a chanceful life.

My alarm goes off at eight – and because the manufacturer of Casio’s travel clock made the decision to set a four minute snooze, I am forced to hit it twice.

The Core Reality Group decided in renovating to install water-heaters that take a while to heat up, so instead of doing the “cold-water tippy-toe” dance around the outside of the stream I brush my teeth. Because Philips set a two-minute timer on the Sonicare 9300 I am forced to do this for a full 120 seconds (occasionally I reclaim my independence by going for a second round).

The Philadelphia Enquirer – an odd paper in itself – refuses to throw the paper in front of my door. Instead they choose to make it more difficult on themselves and throw to the main entrance of the Becker Building. By someone else’s design my routine includes walking down my front steps and immediately back up the next set of steps to the lobby doors. Exception is this morning, a rare morning when they throw the paper on the complete opposite side of the building. Not only is it frustrating, but thoroughly confusing.

SEPTA (South Eastern Pennsylvania Transportation Authority) somewhere along the way decided it was unnecessary to run the trolleys on an actual schedule. So they get there when they damn-well-please. Often after several minute of waiting I am forced into an alternative routine…walking. I do so according to the routine of the crossing signals and erratic drivers on Girard Avenue. SEPTA further controls my morning by running the EL every ten(ish) minutes.

Jeff – who gets to the desk at six a.m. – typically takes a smoke break just about the time I arrive. Part of my morning ritual, thanks to Jeff – and Marlboro, is to wait for him to return so I can say “good morning.” Yes, that is essential.

Once I get to work my day is controlled by doctors, managers and editors. Going home is just as bad.

I suppose it is true we are all controlled by the decisions of others to some degree. I guess the main reason I am thinking about it this morning is this:

Last night I watched the republican YouTube debates. If one of those guys gets to control my life, in any fashion more than being an Enquirer paper-boy, I might have to do more than just continually color my hair.