A few days ago my roommate got up several minutes earlier than usual and went into the bathroom to take a shower. Following the shock of her earlier alarm, I soon followed.
Just as I was about to get into the second shower, another girl from the wing walked in the bathroom, greeting the otherwise normal scene with a kind of yelp. I knew immediately what was going on, but still got in the shower anyway.
"Blame your roommate," the girl who's always at the sink told the yelping wing-mate. "That's her in the shower, isn't it?"
"No, she's just getting up."
"That's my roommate in the shower," I contributed. "She got up a little early today."
So the crisis continued. One change in alarm time, even by just minutes, was enough to throw off at least eight people's schedules. And the resulting response was, on the whole, not a very good one. This was certainly quite an ordeal.
I know that if I wake up to too much activity on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I start to panic, wondering if maybe it's the wrong day, and I slept 24 hours too long. And if I don't see that same girl at the sink every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I know something's up.
I'm just used to it. Even if I'm not always friendly in the mornings -- which I know I'm not -- I feel like something's lacking if I don't exchange the same smile or "good morning" with the same people everyday in the bathroom.
In general, life this past couple of months has not been very ordinary, but instead it's been something I'm completely not used to. Though I appreciate the chance to try something new and actually gain a little bit of life experience, I find myself constantly searching for a schedule, a routine.
Other than the ever-important morning schedule, the most important routine has been the dinner plans. Having truly appreciated my luck at developing a daily habit of dinner activities, I was shocked to hear a dinner buddy complain of the monotony.
Thus, perhaps I should not have been taken by surprise when the very next day my dinner blitz was not met by the same responses. One was busy working, one had already eaten, and two were mysteriously missing from the blitz-world. This group, this comforting routine, had turned into disconcerting chaos.
Instead of acting like a mature almost-adult, I completely flipped out. Not knowing how to handle myself amidst this unstructured event, I turned on my dinner friends, ready to be done with the routine forever.
Sure that I had been ditched for the first time in almost two months, I searched for ways to make them feel guilty. I even considered planting myself in their room with an array of transfer applications to show them just how distraught their insensitivity had left me.
Obviously over-reacting, I saw visions of lonely dinners, walking through Food Court alone and searching for an inconspicuous seat with people glancing pathetically in my direction.
The thought of losing my sacred routine, one of the only comforts I can turn to in this mixed-up world of dorm life, made everything seem scary and unfamiliar.
Even though it worked out okay, and I eventually had my dinner -- though at a much later time -- I realized the importance of a schedule and routine to me.
My mom used to call me an old person in a young person's body because of the way I tend to resist change, but I think it's pretty normal to look for the comfort of knowing what to expect each day.
Things don't have to be monotonous and boring to be usual. Daily routines can make any unfamiliar place feel just a little more like home. I do admit that occasionally we need change and excitement, but I think everyone -- though probably to a somewhat lesser degree -- needs a routine to make them feel comfortable.
But with that sense of comfort and security comes responsibility, of which I will remind my roommate. I learned this week never to ignore someone's dinner blitz and never ever to set my alarm five minutes early; you never know what kind of terrifying spiral of unstructure you could be sending someone down.