Bonjour, Je Suis A Creature of Habit (Who Pretends Not to Be)
Like many Montrealers, I tell myself every day that I thrive on spontaneity. Flash snowstorms in April? Embrace them. Cowboy-themed microbrewery on a Thursday night? Why not? But if we're being honest—and authenticity is très en vogue these days—I'm also an absolute fiend for my little rituals. From my morning coffee routine to moments of quiet literary indulgence, my day is a tapestry of habits that ground me, amuse me, or make me feel vaguely like the main character in an indie film.
Le Start: Coffee First, Existential Dread Later
My mornings begin as they should: with drama. Not the relationship kind (those days are behind me, merci beaucoup), but rather the heavy, operatic kind you perform for an audience of one at 7:00 a.m. You see, my coffee ritual is half chemistry experiment, half religion. First, I grind my beans to a texture I’d call “Sand of a Decent Beach,” then I perform the pour-over like I’m auditioning for MasterChef, Montréal: Quirky Home Edition. Steam rises, the aroma swirls, and voilà—a cup of poetry.
While the coffee drips, I scroll through my messages. If there’s a text from my maman, it’s either a heart emoji or an unsubtle reminder that “life isn’t just work, Juliette.” (Yes, she mastered passive-aggressiveness in two languages. I shiver at her power.) Then, while sipping my coffee, I ease into the day with a dog-eared book. Lately, I’ve been alternating between something romantic (Bonjour Tristesse) and something hilariously bleak (1984). You know, for ~balance~.
Mid-Morning: The Walk That’s Technically a Date with Myself
Did you know taking yourself on a walk can feel like a date? Well, it helps if—like me—you meander through places that make you fall a little bit in love with life again. Around mid-morning, after emails and brainstorming sessions that may or may not involve writing a to-do list just to immediately tick things off, I get to stretching my legs.
On weekdays, it’s a brisk loop through Parc La Fontaine, where I play a deeply satisfying game of silently judging couples sitting on benches. I’ve crafted entire meet-cutes in my head for strangers without their consent. (“He’s staring at his phone because he’s nervous to show her the engagement ring!” “She’s upset because he said Montréal bagels aren’t special. Amateur mistake.”)
Pro tip: People-watching is the ultimate secret weapon to infusing playfulness into your relationship outlook. Judgment-free, of course. Well, mostly.
Lunch Hour: From Farm to Fridge to… Almost Forgotten
Confession time: I romanticize the notion of a homemade lunch, packed meticulously like I’m auditioning to become the human embodiment of a Pinterest board. Reality? I either pawn off last night’s leftovers or make a baguette sandwich, haphazardly balanced with whatever I found wilting in my fridge. It’s just the right amount of effort to feel virtuous without crossing into Martha Stewart territory.
And here’s where things often take a rogue turn: I eat while diving into work on a piece of fiction or researching whatever love- or life-related topic is calling my attention that day. Did I write an entire think piece about how cooking together can reveal compatibility, all while my soup went cold beside me? Yes, I did. It’s research, okay?
The Afternoon Dip: Enter My Secret Weapon—Old Love Songs
It’s a universal truth that afternoons are for slumps. Somewhere around 3:00 p.m., my brain decides it’s time to dramatically muse about the meaning of life. It’s usually triggered by something minor—like seeing a couple cuddling under a shared scarf (ugh, cute).
Enter: chansons d’amour. Anyone who’s ever sobbed to Coeur de pirate’s “Comme des Enfants” or felt their mood skyrocket upon hearing Serge Gainsbourg’s sultry voice knows this playlist is essentially caffeine for the heart. Tapping into a bit of melodrama turns the slump into inspiration—perfect for brainstorming my next article or short story about messy, thrilling, maddening love.
(If you need me, I’m building a case for Spotify playlists as a love language. They just are.)
La Fin de Journée: The Grand Theft Dinner Show
Evenings are for cooking—or, as I like to call it, “Grand Theft Recipe.” I’m a shameless scavenger of other people’s culinary ideas. Friends, family, Instagram strangers—no recipe is safe. I’ll put an unapologetically Québécois spin on anything, adding maple syrup or some funky local cheese to things that absolutely don’t require it. Erratic? Oui. Delicious? Aussi oui.
Cooking with someone else, though… now there’s a scene worth romanticizing. Dinner provides this perfect window into someone’s quirks—how they chop vegetables or hum while stirring pasta. I learned early in my life (and yes, some embarrassing dates) that food is not just a love language; it’s also a litmus test. Can they laugh with you when the sauce goes sideways? Then you’ve got something. If they comment that your caramelized onions aren’t really caramelized? Dump him.
Late Evening: The City Breathes, and So Do I
Once the day’s heat softens—sometimes literal, sometimes metaphorical—I wind down. This could mean writing in my favorite café-turned-bar, where the lighting whispers romance and the conversations hum with potential. Or, it could mean something indulgent but deliciously simple: my century-old clawfoot tub, a delicate glass of wine perched nearby, and at least two candles for dramatic flair.
Ironically, my favorite way to prepare for sleep isn’t scrolling mindlessly through my phone, but jotting down thoughts. Not always profound ones—the deeper musings live in my fiction—but little moments that felt alive that day. (Like the elderly man in a tuque serenading his dog while they strolled through the snow. I mean, come on. That’s love in its purest form.)
What This All Means—or Doesn’t
So maybe I’m not as spontaneous as I like to think. But my rituals remind me that stability and surprise aren’t enemies; they’re co-stars. The book I reread for the hundredth time still offers new insights. The park bench I sit at occasionally transforms into my own personal rom-com set, populated by strangers whose lives I invent over 15 minutes.
Routines don’t have to be boring. They can be canvases, grounding you while quietly urging you to paint outside the lines from time to time. Whether you’re setting boundaries in a new relationship, going on a first date, or simply waking up to your morning coffee, it’s not about following a perfect script. It’s about choosing rituals that make you feel more like you.
As maman would say, “Tu es unique, alors vis comme ça.” You’re unique, so live like it.
