Schedules, routines and rituals get me through the day

I know what some of you are thinking. When is this blogger guy going to plumb the depths of his own Aspie-ness?

Now.

I shave every third day.

I shower at least twice a day. (Don’t even think of asking me to go camping.) The last time is before bed. I have no shot at sleep if I’m dirty, or if it’s been more than 72 hours since de-whiskering.

I have zero mechanical aptitude and have never fixed a thing.

I don’t like getting up before 9 a.m. and plan my day accordingly. My wife MaryAnne, who is a saint, assumes all early-morning household duties.

I have never used an ATM. Early in the week I get a check cashed at the bank and it’s always for the same amount.

A few days ago, MaryAnne showed me how to send a text. I’ve forgotten.

My Aspie-itis is in full bloom when it comes to exercise. I walk two miles with the dog in the morning, eat lunch and pace another two. No less. No more. If the weather is bad, I go to an indoor facility where I spend 30 minutes — no less, no more — on one of the various fitness machines. In the afternoon, I return to the facility to lift weights for 20 minutes.

I can say with some conviction that I do all this to maintain weight. Indeed, a sudden weight loss at the end of 2016 (Wanna shed pounds? Forget the fish diet. Have your prostate removed) has me down to 204 — the lowest since the early ’80s. But the walking and lifting is also a way to get a hefty dose of by-myself time.

The last time I wore a suit was in 2005 when our oldest son got married. If there’s an event that requires this sort of attire, I won’t be there.

I possess two pairs of footwear — running shoes and winter boots. See above if there’s an event that requires me to be better shod.

I could probably stuff all the clothes I own into three Hefty bags. I’d rather take a beating than go shopping.

I am much more comfortable around children than most adults, and I guess it shows. When I pick up our grandkids at day care, the other toddlers come up to me like I’m Santa Claus. At the museum the other day, a stranger of a 3-year-old asked me to come to her birthday party.

Back to the weight thing. I strip naked every morning and step on the scales. If I’m more than 1 and one-half pounds too heavy, I’ll eat only Subway sandwiches for the day. If the weight is unchanged the following morning, I’ll make myself run four miles.

I have no shot at sleep if there are dirty dishes in the sink, or if I have clothes that need to be washed, or if I haven’t emptied the trash.

When I sit on the toilet to take a dump, the tops of my shoes must be on a straight line from each other.

I bite my fingernails until they bleed, but you probably wouldn’t notice because I’m really good at curling my fingertips under my knuckles.