You're doing some kind of job. It involves a starting and opening ritual. This could be opening/closing a shop, signing in at a school you're working at or maybe just biding time in an office.
There's a whole stack of things that you've done between the signing in/signing out, closing the shop door/opening the shop door or whatever. Nevertheless, your mind tells you that it only seems like ten seconds ago you were just repeating the same action. "Arrgh! My life has become a sequence of repeats. Is this the living equivalent of daytime TV?"
Of course, after a while you start to calm down a bit. You tell yourself that it was just tiredness and that all is not so bad. Two cups of tea and a hug later at home and normal mental service has been resumed; at least temporarily.
It is only when leaving the house on the following day that a stark fact suddenly hits you like a leaden weight wet fish. At six or so strategic points on your journey, you will meet the same people at the same points on your route at the same time that you always do. Oh and how you look forward/resent/despise seeing them. There is only limited contentment to be had in the knowledge that they probably feel the same about you.
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