Crazy Little Routines

Our little bungalow has three entries. The front door normally gets opened five times a week to check the mailbox. If readers stop by to purchase one of my books, I generally steer them to the front door as well.

The back door off the kitchen, leading to a mid-size deck, was not part of the original house but makes a nice addition. Normally, it’s used only in the summer months.

Our most-used entry.

The side door is the one we usually use. It utilizes one of those arrangements common to homes built in the 1960s. You enter, stand on a three-by-four-foot landing to hang your coat, leave your boots, and then choose between three steps up to the kitchen or nine steps down to the basement. Not a problem in the summer months. But in winter, or when company comes, it’s a nightmare for everyone to unboot themselves without booting anyone else down the stairs. I don’t know how families managed with these cattle chutes back in the day. Still, it generally works fine for the two of us.

Thanksgiving weekend, the handle on our side storm door broke. Hubby took the handle to the hardware store where we’d purchased the door, only to learn it would take six to eight weeks to get a replacement handle. This left us with no way to latch the storm door. Since we were leaving on a trip, Hubby threaded a plastic zip tie through the hole and tied the door shut. With that entrance out of commission, we needed to develop some new habits. Switching to the front and back doors was not a major inconvenience. At first.

Then winter blew in.

Suddenly, coat hooks, closets, and boot trays were in the wrong spots. The corner stand where we collect items to be grabbed on our way out the door now stood in an inconvenient place. Turning off a light on your way out the back door required traipsing across the kitchen floor in your boots. I couldn’t sit at my usual place at the table without moving footwear. Instead of one small rug accumulating dirt, snow, and gravel, we had three. Every time I left the house, I seemed to be gathering items from all over. I didn’t know how to go anywhere anymore.

How can such a small change throw our whole routine into confusion?

John Dryden, an English literary critic and playwright of the 1600s, said, “We first make our habits, and then our habits make us.” We humans are creatures of habit and the older we grow, the more attached we become to our routines. We resist new tricks, even when those tricks could improve our lives or even save them.

Sometimes we need a little shakeup to keep our brains sharp or to experience new adventures. If I hadn’t been forced to use alternate doors, I wouldn’t have found the house key I thought I’d lost. I wouldn’t have discovered the cute bunny living in our shrub. I wouldn’t have realized that taking the kitchen garbage out the back door is actually handier.

Is there a routine you need to shake, some flexibility you need to adopt, or a new spirit of spontaneity you’d love to embrace? What small change can you implement today that will create ripple effects into 2024 and beyond?

Micro habits are small yet meaningful practices that will improve your life when done consistently. These can be as uncomplicated as leaving your phone in another room when you retire to bed or visit the bathroom. As simple as rising a few minutes earlier or taking a minute to stretch or pray or meditate or step outside or drink a glass of water or count your blessings. I’m sure you can think of more. Can I challenge you to deactivate your most-used door (your least helpful habit) for a few weeks and see what better alternatives might arise?