For some of us, an interruption in our routine is merely annoying, but for some, routine is everything and just the slightest deviation can be catastrophic.
I worked with a young man who had Downs Syndrome, and his day had to proceed a certain way. He was chatty and capable in his work, but had he got up late, had something different for breakfast or the bus was late, it could take him a while to get things together in his head.
I like routine. I like to know where I stand and what has to be done every day/week.
I suppose it’s boring to some and I suppose the most spontaneous I’d be would be to go out for a walk or a drive, or heaven forbid, go clothes shopping!
Maggie is also a creature of habit and routine, so much so you can practically tell the time by her.
She knows when her second outing of the day is (she now accepts that first thing in the morning she is expected to perform in the garden), when it’s time to eat (that’s us, not her, she’s perfected the scrounge, the little minx), her third outing, the fourth, and finally bedtime. At 8.30 she takes herself into the bedroom, though we don’t usually retire until 9.
The clocks go back this month. On the boat, the hour either way didn’t bother her, but when we were in the cottage it took a while for her to adjust. She seems to have been OK here, but for each 24 hours, her routine is more or less the same.