Habit is quick to volunteer. He muscles his way to the front of the line
with his hand in the air saying, “me, me, take me, I know what to do.” Once he
gets picked, he settles in with his safety blanket and the thick manual of
How We Do Things. I don’t have to think anymore which is nice at first,
but then because I have all this time on my hands from not thinking I get
bored. And also annoyed. Habit is a mechanical toy. He only moves
sideways into depression. He pokes the same wounds all the time. He falls
over by the slightest trigger and lies there wiggling his arms and legs like a
beetle on its back waiting to be turned right side up. Then I have to call his stepbrother, reflection, to come and fix it. When reflection walks in the
door, he always says “Oh, I see habit is here again. I thought you weren’t
doing him anymore. You didn’t have to call me for that.” And of course, I
know he is right. There is a reason habit and reflection are estranged.