Simplifying Silliness

Simplify.  That's what all the self-help books are screaming at us from the shelves of the local Wal-mart or where ever it is that they sell books these days.  Simplify.  Streamline your life.  Get rid of the complications. Stressed?  Quit your job, give away all your stuff, eat nothing but organic vegetables and drink gallons of filtered, ionized water, and you'll never be stressed again!  At least I'm sure that's what the books say.  I really don't have time to read them all, so I just glance wistfully at the book jackets. 

I would love to be able to simplify my life. For instance, I have found that I really don't like making decisions about the little things. It is difficult enough for me to make the big decisions all day, let alone to answer impossible conundrums about "paper or plastic?"  It has long been a dream of mine to be independently wealthy enough to semi-retire and pay people to come to my house to fix my hair, make me food, and help me work out. And maybe tell me what to wear, too, because...some days it is just too stressful for me to pick out an outfit.

I am the go-to decision maker in my house. Most moms are.  I decide what food to buy.  I purchase most of the clothing worn in the house.  I decide what to feed the dog, and the cats.  I decide what time we get up in the morning for work.  I decide which flavor of coffee to purchase. I decide when someone is sick and when they are faking. 

How can all that be simplified?  If it were just me, by myself, maybe it would be feasible.  But I'm a family unit, not an individual, and as the mom I am expected to remember everything for everyone, and to make decisions for everyone.  I can be decisive, but people usually don't like what I decide. 

Simplifying is much more difficult than it looks, and it is disingenuous of the self-help books to say otherwise.  Simplifying can be more work than just leaving things complicated. Take something simple, such as the tradition of going out to lunch with your coworkers for a special occasion.  It starts out innocently enough.  A hypothetical colleague, Jill, was just promoted to the next rung on the corporate ladder, and everyone is just waiting to steal her office supplies to congratulate her.

Me: Hey, let's go to lunch!  (at this point, I am actually happy, because lunch is my favorite part of the day)

Coworker #1: Sounds good.  Where?
Coworker #2: Anyplace sounds fine.
Coworker #3: I'm in!
Coworker #4: Yay! We haven't been out in so long!

Me: Thai? (I'm starving...I'll get something with curry...or not)

Coworker #3: No. Peanut allergy.

Me: Chinese? (Okay, I'll have some garlic shrimp)

Coworker #2: MSG. Swells my feet.
Coworker #4: They closed that place down last week.

Me: Mexican? (I guess I could have a quesadilla)

Coworker #1: I don't like the way they cook their lengua.
 
Me: Barbecue? (maybe a turkey taco?)

Jill: Vegetarian
Coworker #1: Gives me the heartburn

Me: Cheeseburgers? (please, for the love of all that's holy, somebody PICK something!)

Coworker #4: Lactose Intolerant
Jill:  Vegetarian.

Me(sarcastically):  How about just a plain PB&J?

Coworker #3: Nope. Peanut allergy.
Coworker #4: I'm eating gluten-free.

Jill:  I'm just going to order a pizza.

Long gone are the days when people would just politely go where the guest of honor chose without mentioning their food allergies.  Now things are all complicated, because everyone's individual dietary needs must be catered to in order for everyone to be happy. Consequently, it is easier to just order a pizza than to make a decision.   If a bunch of smart, educated women can't make a decision about something so simple as lunch, I think we've figured out what is happening with Congress. 

Miscommunications

We have an open office. We have our own cubicles, and it's downhill from there. My brain tries to hear everything, even when I leave very specific instructions to the contrary. I'll put on earphones and blast my ears with music, but this only makes them work harder to hear every little thing that is going on around me.

This morning, my coworker Kim is at her desk in the cubicle next to mine, making phone calls. I am listening to my music on my earphones, there's a lull in the music.

"I need to know your prices for a crack pipe?" My brain hears this, and slams on the brakes. The Red Alert alarm from the original Star Trek begins sounding.

"What?" I asked. No answer. I peek around the corner to find my coworker listening to someone on the other end of her phone. I sit back down. The rest of the conversation was just as interesting.

"What do you charge per joint?" More talking on the other side of the phone.

"We will need 25 joints. Do you deliver?"

By this time several other people in the office had gathered around my coworker, their curiosity piqued. Kim hung up the phone and looked at us all.

"What?" she asked. One of us explained. She threw back her head and laughed.

She had been referring to the supplies needed for a metal fence for her house...