I have always asked myself how some people can do stuff mechanically, like clockwork, every minute of their lives. How can they sacrifice on the pyre of routine without ever feeling it as such?
Drink their tea every morning at the same hour, unfold the paper and flicker through the pages and follow the same road to work for, say, 25 years? How do you cope with that?
My folks once told me that routine is something you cannot avoid, that it is part of life, especially after you become part of something called becoming an adult. They were right, I can cope with it at work, but after that, it just becomes loathsome.
So, socially speaking, I may be tagged as a bad robot.