Last weekend, the YMCA where I typically work out closed their doors to move all the equipment around to achieve ADA (American Disabilities Act) compliance. I stayed away the first day after, i.e., I went to another gym. This morning, I arrived and struggled to find all the pieces of equipment for this morning’s workout.
I wasn’t the only one. Others were walking around lost, searching for their favorite this or that. Some were complaining. Some were complaining loudly. Personally, I think anything we can do to help disabled folks get a workout is fine with me.
When I found my elliptical – yes, it’s my elliptical – I was thinking of how we are all such creatures of habit and how we make a fuss when our routine is shaken up.
I’ve had a lot of experience with my routine being shaken to the core lately. Friends I care about have lost their jobs, and I hurt for them as they struggle to find new ones. My husband – who was almost never home – is now home all the time, which has been sweet and fun and troubling too. I love having him around all the time and I know I will miss him when he goes back to work, but boy I got a lot more work done when he wasn’t here. It’s not his deal, it’s mine. It’s hard to tap away on the computer and think and write when I’d rather spend time with him.
Of course, the impending move is disrupting everything too. I’m an organized, neat person and when there is dust, boxes, and things laying all about, it disturbs my sense of order. It’s just who I am. No amount of hauling items to the basement to be stacked for later loading, or hauling stuff we no longer need to Goodwill or the library will stop the mess – it keeps growing as does my need to stay calm and breathe steadily through it. I hate moving. I really, really do.
There is, of course, one person who takes complete delight in the mess as well as his Dad being home:
Max’s world is clearly serene. No worries here.
Emily’s world is similarly happy.
It’s good to know this move hasn’t made an impression on them yet.