I’ve determined that I’m rooted in routine. I need routine. I like routine.
Maybe that’s part of why transition throws me for such a loop. My routine gets all messy and unknown and mixed up and Lindsay goes loopy.
As I went through my morning routine this morning, I opened the cupboard above my coffee maker and, being the dork that I am, I smiled to myself. Want to know one of my favorite part of my morning routine?
Deciding which coffee cup I’ll use that day.
Is it an Office mug day? [“I *heart* Jim” or “Employee of the year.”] A Dawson day? [Preacher gnome or painted gnome scenes.] A mustache mug or fireworks mug? [Half of the mustache came off in the dishwasher. opps.] Corny/awesome souvenir mugs from Alaska and Korea? Choices, choices. And I love them all.
There is something about the mug fun and something about the Starbucks french roast [I learned to drink my coffee dark and bold from the best, a la Emily.] that goes inside of it that makes my morning happy. I love my morning routine. [Except for that part when I need to wake up and climb out of a cozy bed. But after that.]
there's no place like gnome. 
what?! it came off?!oh nos!