The routine of no routine

Here at No Direction Home, no two days are ever exactly alike. That definitely sounds more exciting than what reality has to offer. There are of course repeat events, the bookends of the day. Early morning and nightime routines are usually the same, but the sandwich filling in the middle certainly gets mixed up over the week.
Mornings usually kick off with a very British tea and toast combo while reading the morning papers online. I've cancelled the GP subscription because a) I cannot be bothered with its incessant whining and b) piles of newspapers EVERYWHERE. Once I've surfaced, I have one of two choices: cycle into work for a morning of language instruction or stay at home and hack away at a translation project.
Evenings are worryingly the same: dinner slumped in front of the telly (current obsession: Game of Thrones), then ablutions and an hour's worth of reading about the Nazis. This is becoming a problem. Then pass out on the dot of 11.
So basically, two days are very much alike, thus making my opening statement a pile of nonsense. In actual fact, I love rituals, the small and private kind, that helps me pace my day. I love making my pot of tea in the morning: boil water, pour some into the empty pot, swirl around and empty, add one teaspoon of tea leaves, pour water again, leave to brew for a bit. Right now its 2pm and I am indulging in the ritual of making Turkish/Lebanese coffee (Turkish because that's where the coffee comes from, and Lebanese because I'm following the instructions from my Lebanese/Belgian sister in law). It goes like this: heat water and a teaspoon of sugar in a small pot or raquí (spelling?), once boiled, add coffee grounds away from the heat, stir, take a teaspoon of the froth and place in your coffee cup. Return the pot to the heat and bring to the boil, then remove immediately. Repeat three times. Let the coffee sit for the grounds to slowly sink to the bottom, then pour into your tiny cup. Most soothing. Except when you misjudge and coffee boils over covering all surfaces with a mud like consistency. I've learned to watch my pot like a hawk now.
So rituals. They are so comforting. I even enjoy the rituals of others (as long as they are not too far out there), like my friend from boarding school. Her going to bed ritual involved rubbing the soles of her feet together before climbing into bed to prevent any dust or grit getting into the covers. I used to listen out for the brushing sound and know that all was well with the world.
I shared a room with three other girls, and discovered three other ways of brushing your teeth.
Rituals, how do you enjoy yours?