Repetition Repeatedly Repeating

Is there joy in repetition? Or is this just something else I am going to grow bored with after a while?

I’ve been making my bed. Every morning. Repeating the same activity every time, just before my shower. My covers are quilted gold and plum, rich and shiny, simple but beautiful (if I do say so myself.). So when I finish the stretch and pull, the fold and the smooth, the tug of war and the final “why do I have 10 pillows?”…it looks so nice. With the estate-signed Patrick Nagels I have on my wall (the ones I got at a yard sale from a “Christian decorator” selling her ex-husband’s “porno art.” The ones that cost me less than fifteen buck apiece. Framed. My own personal headboard.) Ahhhh. (Except the "nude-woman-art" does make me look a little straight…)
And I’ll have to do everything over again tomorrow…

I’ve been drinking so much herbal tea, it’s ridiculous. First the tea bag, then the hot water, then the delicious wait. My two favorites are Twinning Red Bush and Celestial Seasons Decaf Teahouse Chai. I’ve grown addicted to the “brew time” - the quiet moments filled with nothing while I wait for the hot water to go dark. This is, perhaps, one good reason why people at work have a hard time giving up smoking; those breaks of pure thoughtlessness away from the day. Tea bag…hot water…wait. I find I am so relaxed…just sitting there…taking in the aroma, warming my hands on the cup. It won’t be the same when the weather gets hot again.
The stained cup is empty. Time to brew another batch. Tea…water…wait.

What are some of your rituals, your daily repetitions? And do you enjoy them as much as I do…for now? Is it the pervasive heredity of my Catholic upbringing, that stubborn clinging to ritual, rearing it’s papal head? Is it necessity? Or is it joy? Or maybe just contentment?

Or is this just something else I am going to grow bored with after a while?