Froth and the Routine

I used to feel that the actions I make by route gave my life the feeling of absurdity because they were not conscious actions. As I grow older I've come to find solace in those actions. Routine makes things easier, and it seems to me that most of my actions are completely unconscious, and I'm fine with that. For example, if I had to think about every turn of the steering wheel when I'm driving I'd go insane. Once you learn how to do something, you generally don't have to think about it anymore when you do it, and that's really a gift. I usually pay my bills in the morning before I go to work. This seems contradictory to me because I have the least energy to do things like that then, but it makes sense because, as I put things off, I learned to pay my bills just before I had to, which was in the morning when I had to put them in the mail on time. There are countless examples of this, you get the idea. 

Then, how does my mind raise an action to consciousness? There seems to be some threshold, above which I become aware of the actions I'm doing, and have to use a different faculty because the actions required aren't clear and/or haven't been ingrained enough, or maybe are to complex. Of course, much of my conscious life is filled with inaction, and things I can't find clear solutions for regardless of how much I think about them. It seems like consciousness is like the bubbles on top of a pot of boiling water. It has frothy, effervescent quality. One bubble after another wafting into nothingness, but most of my life it seems to me is completely unconscious. It's only when an issue rises to a certain level that consciousness is required. I really need to look back at my life and see where I've gone to judge the character of the froth, and not look so much on the present state of the froth to gain any confidence.