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All the forking decisions

Apparently my husband could “not fucking believe” that there were -- yet again -- no forks in the cutlery drawer.

We started a few years ago with eight big forks and eight little forks and now we were down to six big ones and TWO little ones. “I don’t understand,” he grumbled, washing a single metal fork by hand in our overstuffed farmhouse sink. “Where are all of the forks??”

The kids and I ate at the table using little bamboo sporks that looked like dental floss sticks in my husband’s manly hands. I laughed at him because he gets so mad every single time he opens the drawer, and it’s bizarre to me that he hasn’t come to expect it. Like, CLEARLY there will be no forks -- why is he so surprised???

“Can you look for some please?” he requested. “Do a search online.”

“Ughhh, okay, fine...” I agreed.

It’s times like these when I wish I had a personal assistant to conduct research on my behalf. I’d have them present me with at least three fork contenders on a spreadsheet with columns like “Circular Handle? Yes/No,” and I would choose the winner based on that. (“Use the Amex black card,” I would tell them. Because obviously I would have one.)

“No – we just need forks,” he admonished, eyeing my search results with frustration. Stop searching for ‘rose gold utensils’ and look for just forks instead!”

“You can’t buy JUST FORKS, honey,” I informed him. “It doesn’t work that way; you have to buy a full set.”

No,” he insisted. “That can’t be true. Just search for it… Just try."

"Ughhhhhh," I whined again, but complied. Who knows, I thought. Just humor him.

“Good news!” I exclaimed.

“You found some?”

“No. But we can buy, the domain name, for only $2695 — that’s just 24 payments of $112.29.”

“Oh my God,” he said.

“I know!!”

“Keep looking,” he insisted. “Forks only.”

I typed “forks only” into the search bar and “forks only for sale” came up —- which means we are not alone. It seems that utensil companies should be accounting for this widespread plight by offering extra forks in every set. Ya know: family packs.

“Aha! I’ve got one!” I rejoiced. They were pretty, from overseas. I could tell they were from overseas because the item description claimed that “these stainless steel forks are very come in handy,” and their appearance was described as “simple style with no redundant annoying decoration; rose gold classic looking matches and mix well with your existing silverware.” This overseas set fit the bill… well, almost.

“Ummm…" I told him. “I thought I found some, but they’re no good.”

“How come?”

“Well,” I replied, “it says that they’re made from vacuum plasma metal. That’s like some Ghostbusters shit.”

“Are you kidding me?"

“Well it’s not just that: These forks also have NO redundant annoying decoration.”


“And also: in the picture they’re using them to eat uncooked pasta!”

I showed him:

“That’s weird.”

“Yah how do we know if they work on actual cooked food?”

“UGHHHH,” he said. I think he really hates me. “You’re a bad decision maker,” he proclaimed.

“Nooo!” I countered, “I’m a GOOD decision maker... I just need an assistant who’s into spreadsheets.”

What I needed was more spreadsheets. What I had was Decision Fatigue.

The best website I found listed four main symptoms of Decision Fatigue: Procrastination; Impulsivity; Avoidance; and Indecision. It said the cures include:

Eliminating choices; Choosing in the morning; Quitting second-guessing; Developing routines; and Delegating decisions.

So now, in the spirit of delegation, I’m gonna usher you along to the aforementioned best website so you can learn more about this all, should you have that burning desire. Why reinvent the wheel, rite? Plus, I’m tired of deciding on words for today.

“Did you order the forks yet?” My husband asked, about two hours later.

“I did not,” I replied. “But I did purchase the domain name”

Two days later, I was pleasantly surprised when a smallish cardboard box containing just forks arrived on my front porch, fresh from overseas. My husband had ordered them; I hadn’t. I felt relieved. And the best part of all is that you can’t even taste the vacuum plasma.


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