Saturday, May 7, 2016

No. More. Decisions.

I read somewhere that the human brain only has a certain amount of energy in it.  It can be used up, so to speak.  So after a long day of work or play or conversation or whatever, the brain needs us to go to sleep so it can regenerate itself.  It's why we wake up in the morning with strength and resolve and we can make sound decisions; but it is also why, after a long day, we kind of lose ourselves.  We lose control.  And willpower.  And common sense.  Which is why evening is the time stupid decisions are made and stupid arguments happen.  'Cause our brains are all used up.

There's some real science out there explaining all of this, but I don't really want to go find it to quote it here.  So let's just say I know it's out there and I believe it.

Every Friday night, I believe it more.

Fridays exhaust me.  On Fridays, I feel like I will never, ever, ever catch up.  They make me feel like a tree that's got a whole flock of woodpeckers on it, peck-peck-pecking away at me.  Like this past Friday:  I don't even want to go into what all happened.  I can't.  It's too much.  I don't even remember it all, even.  I woke at 5 a.m. and went like gangbusters all day.  I had tough conversations.  I mediated.  I planned.  I made decision after decision after decision.  I pinch-hit and bunted and struck out, boom-boom-boom.  Kicking ass and taking names.  Except really just whirling around punching at the air and decidedly not taking names.

So when the day wound down and my husband and I met back at home with the kids, the Friday night script began.  It's the same every week.  My husband starts it off.

Want to eat out or make some dinner here? 

I don't care. 

Well, which would you prefer? 

I don't care. 

Well, if we go out, we could just walk up to Donatos and have pizza.  It would be easy. 

I don't care. 

Or I could just grill some brats and you could make some rice and a vegetable.  That would be easy, too. 

I don't care.  

You don't care?  Because, like, both are fine. 

I don't care. 

But what do you think?  You've got to think something

Which is when I stop whatever I am doing, look at my patient and persistent husband, and say:

I. Do. Not. Make. Decisions. On. Friday. Nights. 

And he laughs, and shakes his head, and says:

Yes, that's right.  You don't.

And then he'll make the decision.  Which is why this past Friday night, like most of the Fridays before it, we walked up the hill to our local Donatos and ate pizza.  It's what he wanted to do anyway, I don't care.  Not on Friday, I don't.  Because my brain is all used up.

I have come to adore Donatos pizza.  Its cheesy, greasy, piping-hot goodness represents a simple end to a long week and a long day.  It represents the teamwork of my family.  It represents a break from the pace of a regular week.  And most of all, it represents a decision I didn't have to make.

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