The Ricker likes routine.
In fact, he thrives in it. He loves control, and he exercises extreme control over his routine, especially on vacations. Even though he's retired, he still follows his old work routine religiously. Since he used to have a sales meeting first thing Monday mornings, he goes to bed early on Sunday night. Early, as in 7 pm. He retreats to the bedroom, lays down with dinner on his chest, and watches TV. He's out by 8, often with his plate still in the room.
He does the same thing on vacation. When the Ricker and Mrs. Ricker visited me in Arizona a few years ago, I tried to get him to go out to dinner on Sunday, to no avail. He stayed in, fixed himself some leftovers and went to bed. That's okay, because my wife and I had a smashing time with Mrs. Ricker that night . . .
His weekly routine remains similar, also. He waters and does yard work from 5 pm to about 7 pm, with a drink in hand. He comes in to read the paper and then eats dinner. On Friday and Saturday nights, he really lives it up. Every Friday, the Ricker heads up to the Country Club for a drink and light dinner, almost always eating in the bar instead of the dining room. On Saturday, they head to the Boiler Room, which used to be the Mug, which used to be the Mug on the Hill, which used to be . . . Well anyway, it's been there forever and the Ricker goes there weekly, mainly for prime rib on Saturday nights.
However, what's REALLY weird is what happens to the Ricker when you get him out of his routine: he meets people. He's on a road trip right now, and besides stopping for prime rib last night, he met some old man and played gin rummy. He has mojitos at a lodge near Yellowstone. He drives to weird castles and meets weird people. He listens to redneck comedy on satellite radio. Basically, he lives a normal life. It's just too bad he's so tied into his routine the other 340 days.
In fact, he thrives in it. He loves control, and he exercises extreme control over his routine, especially on vacations. Even though he's retired, he still follows his old work routine religiously. Since he used to have a sales meeting first thing Monday mornings, he goes to bed early on Sunday night. Early, as in 7 pm. He retreats to the bedroom, lays down with dinner on his chest, and watches TV. He's out by 8, often with his plate still in the room.
He does the same thing on vacation. When the Ricker and Mrs. Ricker visited me in Arizona a few years ago, I tried to get him to go out to dinner on Sunday, to no avail. He stayed in, fixed himself some leftovers and went to bed. That's okay, because my wife and I had a smashing time with Mrs. Ricker that night . . .
His weekly routine remains similar, also. He waters and does yard work from 5 pm to about 7 pm, with a drink in hand. He comes in to read the paper and then eats dinner. On Friday and Saturday nights, he really lives it up. Every Friday, the Ricker heads up to the Country Club for a drink and light dinner, almost always eating in the bar instead of the dining room. On Saturday, they head to the Boiler Room, which used to be the Mug, which used to be the Mug on the Hill, which used to be . . . Well anyway, it's been there forever and the Ricker goes there weekly, mainly for prime rib on Saturday nights.
However, what's REALLY weird is what happens to the Ricker when you get him out of his routine: he meets people. He's on a road trip right now, and besides stopping for prime rib last night, he met some old man and played gin rummy. He has mojitos at a lodge near Yellowstone. He drives to weird castles and meets weird people. He listens to redneck comedy on satellite radio. Basically, he lives a normal life. It's just too bad he's so tied into his routine the other 340 days.
posted at 3:35 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home