Mat Gilson

I do not have any good habits.

I was brushing my teeth dry at midnight, no water no toothpaste, and I realized that my life has absolutely no routine. Now, whatever primal thing lives in me, that supposedly longs for discipline or structure, is perfectly ok with this during the summer. During the summer the days stretch out forever, I’m sick of the sun being out by the time it’s starting to go down, and there is time. Even though there is work, the sun is out before and after. In the warmth of the days I feel I’m being held by the hand of the world, and things happen naturally. I’m happy to run out and get groceries on a random whim; I’m happy to make an extra stop on my journey to the post office. Structure would kill the whimsy and joy of summer’s spontaneity!

But now it is winter. Winter is a time of tension and strife. Now the lack of focus with which I regarded my summer crops has led to a less than bountiful fall harvest. I fear for my rations. Now leaving the house requires several layers of clothing, and I have not been doing my laundry with any regularity. Now if I get home, and my lack of consistent grocery shopping has left me with nothing but coffee creamer in the fridge, I am unwilling to leave the house again. I will have to eat frozen peas for dinner.

Winter leaves no room for the joy of spontaneity, and suddenly the creature in me that wants its food bowl filled every day at 8am and 7pm is suffering immensely. Suddenly it is dark at 4 and I cannot rely on a late afternoon walk to completely change the spiraling path of my thoughts. I must rely on myself, my consistent care of my home and body. 

But I do not have any good habits. I will continue to leave my bed unmade, so that in the evening I have to clamber onto the cold sheets and sort out the layers of blankets. I will continue to shop haphazardly, at random days of the week when I happen to have the energy, and buy only for that day’s whims. I will continue to put off getting gas until I absolutely have to, even though this method almost always leaves me pumping gas in the rain or snow. I do this every year. But now, armed with this realization, I will continue to be exactly the same, and my self loathing will increase.