Our world has abandoned the concepts of order and routine.
To the Tourettist (or this Tourettist), order and routine are critical to the ability to function in a manner which makes the rest of society feel comfortable, a slender thread attaching the different to the mainstream. Often, the very considerable and tiring effort this involves is not understood, never mind reciprocated; the complete disproof of all the lies we tell ourselves about how liberal and understanding we are.
There is no such thing as the 24-hour society; if there were, the sun would shine 24 hours a day all over the world. The planets move so predictably that eclipses can be predicted thousands of years in advance. There is a reason why the harvest is not reaped in February; then is not its time. It says little for our civilisation if its primary accomplishment has been the ability to buy a pizza at two o' clock in the morning.
Constant dislocation and disruption of routine is a favourite tool of torturers. The modern citizen's knowledge of where he stands could be precisely defined as not knowing where he stands. He has to find a way to God through a maelstrom of madcap bullshit and chaos, of constant noise, bright light, and others' egotistical caprice.
To God, only ever just Being, the perpetual anchor, the Orientation of the Disoriented, he turns; and having found his bearings, he needs no other compass.