From the outside, I appear to be a set in my ways and highly structured. Every Tuesday night you will find our family dining at Atlanta Bread and afterwards letting our girls run wild at Barnes & Noble. Like clockwork, Saturday mornings means pulling the trifecta of bagels, Target and Costco. Sadly, or should I say pathetically, numerous evenings are centered on when the television shows I can’t miss are playing. If heaven forbid there is a rerun, I am beside myself as to what to do.

The insanity of being a man who ‘likes what he likes.’ even trickles down to what I eat. My drink of choice is caffeine free Diet Coke. Only one flavor of ice cream will do: chocolate chip cookie dough. I might get a bad case of the Outback’s after every time I dine there, but the fact remains I don’t have to open my menu knowing I’ll get the Outback Special with Aussie Cheese Fries every time.

Since I was 14 years old, Santa has always left Hot Tamales and Slim Jim’s in my stockings, along with gym socks for some odd reason. There will be some who think I am taking creative liberties and stretching the truth to serve my own purpose of making a point. However, I invite those individuals to join me for lunch at the Subway in downtown Wilmington, NC and watch what happens when I walk in the door. I can guarantee you that the lady behind the counter will instinctively prepare the ‘usual’, which is a turkey and pepper jack cheese on honey oat bread.

The predictability of my life shows up in other ways. Turn on my ‘in town’ car and sports talk will be playing on the radio. When I hop behind the wheel you could blindfold me and not be scared to ride shotgun. I’ll take the routes I know without ever veering off course. After work I’ll drive by Auto Wholesale and lust after cars that are way out of my price range.

The madness of the mundane continues even further. Some believe the information you can find off websites goes on forever, but after checking Facebook, Twitter, ESPN and my fantasy sports team, I feel like I have finally reached the end of the Internet. Ask me to help with a task at work and you can be guaranteed your typical “yes” man will oblige.

When I’ve mentioned to family and friends that for the month of March I am focusing on dealing with my indecisiveness, almost always a puzzled look comes across their face. You indecisive they say as they scratch their heads. I have to fight the urge not to crack a smile. It looks like my diabolical scheme has worked flawlessly. My routine life has masked my indecisiveness. I am a magician of the mundane. In a way, I’ve distracted them through sure boredom.