Despite the fact that staying at home under self-isolation was supposed to be boring, restrictive, and repetitive, I find myself to be quite comforted by the routine life that I seem to be leading. Waking up every morning knowing that there won't be any new or foreign event interrupting my peaceful to-do list was a comfort I never knew I needed. The constant speed at which life revolved was halted by a microscopic particle and within one night, everything that our daily routine was composed of was shut down. Along with the lack of external daily routine, so went our daily sources of anxiety. Gone were the creeping sense of anxiety that came with deadlines and due dates, replaced by sourdough baking, DIY projects, and personal reflection. Repetition was no longer a dreadful weight to bear, but a comforting weighted blanket that calmed down the waves of anxiety from the unknown. Every morning, I woke up with the comfort of routine in my mind. It was a blessing despite the havoc wreaked by COVID-19, because even if situations around the world continued to change and evolve, there was peace within the motions I went through everyday. The actions I took in a hurry were now done with the utmost pride and care, whether it be brewing a cup of coffee in the morning or reading a tattered copy of a well read "Tess of the d'Urberville". Such consciousness of one's action can only be found within routine, I supposed. The story of Tess and her discourses remained the same, yet I was not. Gone were the person who read Tess' story as a precursor for a class essay, replaced by this person who knew that there was no purpose to reading the book again, other than well, reading the book again. To those who found the act of reading the same text over and over with no particular goal in mind lacked logic, I had to agree, it really did not. There was no logical reason for a person to be reading the same story again and again, but I argue that the person who read the story was the point. The person who read "Tess of the d'Urberville" once was not the person who read it thrice, and thus the point of re-reading. Had it not been for the slowed down pace of life amidst the pandemic, I would never have came to the reason why I kept coming back to the same books and stories I read countless times in the past, all thanks to the routine life I lead and the comfort I found within it. Time was no longer measured by hours, minutes, and seconds, but by case numbers, news predictions, and death tolls. The very same building block that once ruled our lives lost its reign, and for the first time in our conscious history, we got the power to decide, in the relative comfort of our routine, what we get to make of life and ourselves. For the time being, mine will be the different selves I possess as I read "Tess of the d'Urberville" for the nth time. What will be yours?