Seniortude has magnified the fact that I am a creature of habit. I no longer have to respond to a morning alarm clock yet my daily rising is around the same hour, irregardless of bedtime. My morning routine of bathroom, vitamins, coffee and toast follows in order. I move to the computer and attend to the same list of visits, games, mail, and such. The regimen is mostly the same and I find comfort in that.
Perhaps in a previous life I was a cat? My furry feline companion is also a creature of habit. She remains in bed until the toaster pops whereupon she attends my meal expecting her morning peanut butter. If upon occasion I change the menu to plain buttered toast or a cream-cheese daubed bagel, she will accept the substitute but does it grudgingly. Her every whisker twitch serves to let me know the aberration is not appreciated and I'd best return to her preferred cuisine as soon as possible. Her day proceeds to a series of ins and outs with her human attendants opening and closing the house door upon demand. It isn't a bad life, now that I think about it, though having the open-air bathroom in an environment this wet wouldn't be my choice. It seems to be hers though. There is a kitty box available which she refuses to use. She ignores it and sits on the porch staring balefully at the rain.
Okay, I'm not quite sure of the logical sequence of the proceeding paragraphs. Chalk it up to stream-of-consciousness. Or maybe it is another similarity of seniortude to catitude. My mind proceeds from subject to subject in the manner of a cat walking across a room suddenly stopping for a bath.
Hey, I think I'll go take a shower. And have a cup of coffee. And…. (Meow!)