The key to life is discipline. You find out through trial and error what works, and don't waste time with distractions. Distractions come in all shapes and sizes, but if you just make a goal and stay focused you can achieve anything. Eat right. Work out. Keep things tidy. And don't engage in other people's chaos. That's how to get things done.

He woke right before the alarm, not because he's necessarily an early riser (he is) but because that punk threw the paper against his door at top speed again. He leapt out of bed and raced to the door, but by the time he opened it the kid was gone and the sections of the paper had separated from the force with which it landed, which he hated.

"I'm not suddenly gonna start tipping 'cause you act like this!" he shouted into the empty hallway, just in case. He scooped up the loose papers from all around the door and carried the mess back inside.

He was too worked up to eat, but he had to since he was gonna hit the gym before work. He set about making a quick omelette, which he wolfed down with skim milk before packing his gym bag and heading out. Skim milk is for suckers, but the bodega was out of regular milk and he can't bring himself to break the habit of years and drink something else at breakfast. And why should he? The bored looking teenager at the register last night didn't agree or disagree with his stance on skim milk and Danny realized he may have ranted at the kid before, because the kid let him have his rant, patiently took his cash and made change without saying a word.

The gym was quiet this time of morning. The real rush wouldn't start for about 45 minutes, which gave him time to get in and get out and then take a shower and dress at home. Danny did the same sets, at the same equipment every morning. Morning is not the time to break records, just get the blood pumping. Up until a couple of months ago he mainly pushed through his workout thinking of it like basic training, and maybe listening to some Creedence Clearwater Revival and getting into a weird headspace that could only be described as "surviving 'Nam", but recently his workout focus had changed. In his mind's eye he could see himself lifting beams for his own house. Laying brick. Climbing to nail on roofing tiles in the hot sun. Arguing with contractors. He had no idea why building his own house was so motivational, but it got him through and left him feeling energized for the day.

He was running a little late by the time he stepped out of the shower, but unlike some people he knew, he'd be dressed and ready to go in 10 minutes. He bought nice stuff, and sometimes when he went out he wore the nice stuff, but for work? For work he's gonna wear jeans and a button down, probably blue. If you know what you look good in, why mess around, right?

And that's the end of the order in his day. He used to stroll in about 20 minutes before his first patient, drink coffee quietly while reading up on any new articles that came in via email. Email! He'd been a little slow to embrace it, but it was so convenient for staying current in his practice and it reduced the clutter now that he didn't get all those journals that used to build up in his desk drawers. He still read People magazine in print, but that wasn't his magazine. They just got it for the patients and sometimes he read it while he was eating lunch or something. That's all.

These days though... He still got there early, but the first 20 minutes of the day now featured an incident like today's. He'd attempted to sit down with coffee but spilled coffee all over his newspaper when SOMEONE surprised him by putting their earbud into his ear when he hadn't even heard her approach.

"Danny! You've got to hear this song. It gets me so pumped, do you love it?" Mindy trilled cheerfully in his other ear as he jumped a damn mile and ripped her weird Hello Kitty earbud out of his ear.

"First, why would I want to hear your dumb song? And more importantly that is unhygienic. Never do that again."

"Are you saying I am unclean, Danny? That's racist."

"It's not racist for me to not want other peoples' earwax in my ears."

"Okay, so it's not racist, but it is rude. I have beautiful ears."

His eyes flicked to her ears and his own ears began to burn. He tried to deflect the argument she was clearly dying to drag him into. "Your ears are fine. But you gotta warn a guy." Slightly more calmly he asked, "What's the song, then?"

"It's sooo good, Danny. Rihanna and Shakira made a song together. Can you believe it?"

"No, I can't believe it," he said drily.

"Well it's amazing." She gave him a weird look. "Why are your ears so red?"

He was a little thrown by her question, but just put his head down and started mopping up the spilled coffee from the table. The newspaper was just a goner, though. "Maybe I'm a little irritated because I didn't even get to read the sports section before you came and caused a ruckus."

"Sorry, I'll buy you another."

"Don't bother, I'll get another at lunch. I've got patients." He dropped everything in the trash can as he left the kitchen and made a beeline for the calm of his office.

By the time lunch rolled around he was starving. He was mentally weighing up the merits of a Reuben against something a little healthier when his door blew open ahead of the storm that was inevitably going to consume his lunch break. She dropped what looked like a wrapped sandwich on his desk along with a copy of People.

"What's this?"

"I bought you lunch to apologize for messing up your newspaper. You told me not to get you a paper so I got you a magazine."

"Why would I want this?"

"Don't pretend like you don't want to know if this thing with Charlize and Sean Penn is really happening." She plopped in the chair opposite his and began to unwrap her sandwich.

"You got me a Reuben?" He unwrapped his own and took a big bite.

"Danny, the benefit of a your weird addiction to routine is that I can almost always guess what you want."

He looked her with a bit of of a guarded expression. "You think?"

"I know."

"Well. Thanks. Does this mean I have to listen to your song now?"

"Oh Danny, you know me so well."

He sent his last patient on her way and packed up to leave for the day. He slipped the magazine in the big pocket of his bag and pulled the strap over his head so the bag hung at his hip.

"Bye, Bets, see you tomorrow," he called out.

"Your first patient is at 8 tomorrow, Dr Castellano," Betsy replied from the reception desk.

"Thanks."

As he waited for the elevator he scrolled through the messages on his phone in peace. Then he heard someone struggle through the door behind him.

"Danny, help me. Help me!" Her voice was muffled like she had something in her mouth.

He turned to catch whatever she was carrying, but ended up with an armful of colleague. "Jesus, Mindy. Why do you have so many clothes at the office?"

She straightened up and dropped one of her bags on the ground next to him then used the newly free hand to take the other bag out of her mouth. "I'm taking them home, thank you very much."

"I do not understand how you spend so much money on clothes."

"I always look nice, don't I?"

"Yeah..."

"Well it costs a lot of money to look this good."

"I think the quote is 'It takes a lot of money to look this cheap.'"

"I beg your unbelieveable pardon?"

"It's a Dolly Parton quote."

"You like Dolly Parton?"

"I guess. She's kinda a spunky broad. I like that."

"You are such an old man." She smiled coyly. "You like 'em spunky, eh?"

"We're not having this conversation." The elevator doors slid open and he scooped up a couple of her fallen bags.

"We are totally having this conversation. Sooo... what makes a woman 'spunky' in your opinion?"

They were still arguing when they got off the train and although he never agreed to it, he found himself carrying her bags back to her place. In fact she was only carrying one now and he'd ended up with the rest.

"I need my hands free for my keys, Danny. Quit bitching."

"Why are you snapping at me when I'm doing you a favor? I could have let you struggle on the train alone."

"You're right, I'm sorry." She unlocked the door and reached in to flip on the light. Her apartment was clean, but so cluttered. It feels like like I'm visiting a carnival, or a candy store. He smiled a little at the thought. It was just so unlike his ordered, neutral décor. Unlike his ordered, neutral life.

"How about I buy you dinner?"

"I was gonna go work out."

"Oh, please. I know you've already worked out today, I don't think an evening off with me will kill you."

"How do you know I've worked out?"

"Look at your body. You have the physique of someone who works out every day, same time, same place."

He looked down at his body and tried to hide a smile. "Okay. I guess I could eat."

She pulled a stack of takeout menus out of a drawer and dropped them on the counter in front of him. "You choose. I'm in the mood for Chinese. But it's your choice. But don't dumplings sound like really good right now? But it's up to you, honestly."

A couple of hours and more than a couple of bottles of wine later they were sitting in companionable silence amongst the ruins of a Chinese feast. They'd really over ordered, but it was a pretty nice dinner, even if he had replied to the delivery guy's standard "Enjoy your meal" with "You too" and then spent the next 10 minutes kicking himself for turning a normal transaction into another of the awkward exchanges that Mindy always mocked him for. Thankfully she was quiet (or preoccupied) tonight and didn't comment.

"Thanks for dinner, Min. I probably would have just made a sandwich and called it a night."

"Really? I thought you loved to cook."

"I do. I love to cook. But most recipes are for 2 people, or 4 people and I end up with too much food left over."

"Yeah, I know that feeling," she said quietly.

"You cook?"

"Well, no, not really. But I hate cooking for one. I mean, what do you do with a recipe that can't be split?"

"I know right? I haven't had spaghetti carbonara in like 6 months because it needs 1 egg. How am I gonna divide that?"

"I tell you what, if you want to cook for two just give me a call. It will probably stop me from sexually harassing another delivery guy." Her already wine flushed cheeks darkened a little. "I can't believe I said that. I guess I've had a bit more wine than I thought."

"So you'll just come to my place and sexually harass me, then?" he quipped. He felt a blush creep up from his neck as well and looked at his feet. "Sorry. I guess we both got into the wine." He drained his glass and stood up. "I should probably go. Gotta get up early. To work. You know."

She stood as well and as she stretched her arms he caught a glimpse of the smooth skin of her stomach as her shirt slipped up. He looked away and started hunting for his things. "Did you hide my bag?"

"Yeah, I hid your bag."

He spotted it on the counter, but as he slipped it over his shoulder the magazine he'd tucked in when he left the office fell to the floor.

"I knew it!" she shouted in triumph.

"I don't know how that got in there." He felt his face grow hot again and picked it up and placed it on her counter. "Here. It's your magazine."

He made a move towards the door and right as he opened it he felt her tug on his bag as she slipped it back in. "Nope, it's yours now. You'll have to catch me up on the news tomorrow morning." She smiled brightly and slipped her arms around his neck hugging him tightly. "Thanks for helping me with my clothes, Danny."

He tentatively put his arms around her. "Sure Min, my pleasure."

They both became aware that the hug had lasted just a little longer than it should, but neither made a move to break away. "Wow. We really drank too much, huh?" she joked to fill the strange silence.

He let go of her and smiled awkwardly. "I'll see you at work."

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow."

He opened the door to his ordered, neutral condo, and for the first time in years he really looked around as he walked in. He'd always liked it, and he'd spent years carefully putting together a home that really reflected him as a person, but tonight it felt a little cold.

Maybe I could use a little more color in my life, he thought with a smile.