I don't want the stinky smelly things.
Old routines, on the other hand, are like warm flannel footie pajamas. They feel so right.
But right now, my footie pjs are still on the rack at Target, while my dirty socks are in every crack and crevice I come in contact with.
I'm in a new environment with an extra person.
This environment was not ready for me. My craft stuff is not here. And my clothes have nowhere to go but in tubs and laundry baskets.
And this extra person prefers to watch different TV shows during "relax time." He takes up half of my sleeping space and mistakenly uses my towel, everyday.
The refrigerator does not automatically stock itself like it did at my parents' house. There are no tortillas or moldy leftovers. The only reason I now have pickles is because I bought them yesterday.
Folks, this is hard. You can't possibly know what it's like. I mean, what I'm going through is so completely unique to the entire married/cohabitating population you wouldn't understand what it means to get in near fist fights over the bathroom mirror (but I exaggerate).
I know eventually I'll have comfy pajamas made out of dirty socks....wait, that didn't come out right. Yeah, new routines become old routines, but I don't think this metaphor is working for me anymore.