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By Mary E. Adair

Let's start with the word Routine
Not the spelling or the sound
But what it means to ME each day
About this schedule to which I'm bound.

There has to be a time to eat
To nourish, replenish, indulge a bit
Whatever time is spent for this
Isn't the daily part I might quit

And grooming doesn't take much time
Unless a showcase I wish to be
Then it's hardly worth mentioning at all
Or it isn't since it depends on me

Television usually runs in my home
With no one watching half the time
So freeing up the schedule there
Won't make a difference worth a dime

Telephone rings and is answered it's true
But it only bothers if it's telemart
And the pushy people that they hire
Who act like they think I'm not smart

So now I've accounted for half a day
And sadly that leaves too little time now
For any big project I had in mind
Or too late to start on it, anyhow

The computer beckons with siren call
And I get coffee to drink at my place
In front of the screen checking my email
And soon there's a smile upon my face

Before you know it, darkness falls
With maybe a smidgeon of work I've done
And I think the answer I have found
"My Routine Should Leave Time for Fun."

©September 01, 2010 Mary E. Adair

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