He likes his routine and he always has a certain way he likes. He wakes up at 7; 00, makes his bed, turns on TV and walks to the kitchen to make coffee. Until the coffee gets ready, he brushes his teeth, flosses his teeth and then checks his teeth in the mirror. For his morning coffee, he always chooses a green cup among all the cups he keeps in the cabinet and he always uses the same silver spoon for his morning cereal with raisins in it. He comes back at 4;00 from his work , goes pick up Kenny and Lisa at school and takes care of them until Mrs. Malchovich comes back from her store.

His dinner is usually either "In and Out" or "Taco Bell", but he never eats directly from their paper bags. Instead he nicely places his meals on the plate which he is fond of with ketchup on the side and then put beer right next to the plate on the table.

 

 Once Sylvia and I accidentally used his plate and spoon for a guest. He got very mad at us.

"This is my plate! You can use any plates in the cabinet but don't use mine. Look at the pattern. My plate has leaves on it. You see the leaves around the edge?   This silver spoon with a little flower carving on the tip of it? You see right here? This is my spoon. OK?  Pay little more attention to the details. Don't use mine!"

       

On weekends he goes out and does lot of fun things, but  he spends his most of weekday evenings sitting at the desk and working on his script or reading books about how to write a screenplay to educate himself. He works hard on his writing every day.

Watching him doing his routine became my routine. Most of all, I enjoy the moment curing up at his feet and dozing off while he works on his script at the desk. It became my favorite moment.

 

 

 

                                              

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"No, I want to draw now. We go tomorrow."

Don scoffed.

 

"No, I 'm drawing now.  You always tell me not to stop your flow, but you are interrupting my flow now. Please don't stop my flow."
 I felt bad to say things like this to Don, but I didn't want to stop drawing now. My drawing was almost done, but I still needed to color some parts.Then I heard the door closed.

When I opened the door in the bedroom, the first thing I saw was the bath towels at the door, which I had used to cover Don's computer with. Then I saw Don sitting at the desk and vigorously typing on the key board. Next to the keyboard were a pile of how-to books about screenplay writing. Don was back working on his script.