Coping, Part 2

Routine also helps. Not thinking about things means you don’t have to spend energy thinking about the things that are causing stress. Ignorance is bliss. As is routine.

I try to keep the routines that I established back in New York. Often, I get thwarted. The Yankees aren’t on all the time around here, for reasons passing understanding. They would usually be on three hours earlier anyway. So I can’t veg in front of a Yankee game as often as I would like.

Ordering in on Friday night due to exhaustion is also no longer the routine. The New York takeout scene is proof positive there’s something to the theory of natural selection, at least in a culinary sense. Walk two blocks in any direction, you’ll find great Chinese, excellent Thai, a neighborhood Italian with a signature dish worth ordering, a passable Mexican and one of any of the following that’s at least worth a try: Mid-Eastern, Turkish, Ethiopian, Indian, Caribbean or Hamburger. Furthermore, because of the tight competition, all these places deliver, meaning that you can keep your lazy ass parked on the couch (in front of the Yankee game) without missing the quality food.

In contrast, here’s the typical Friday night conversation in Phoenix:

“What are we doing about dinner?”

“Oops, we didn’t defrost anything.”

“Want to order in?”

“What’s near?”

“There’s the Thai place 18 miles away. That’s pretty good.”

“We could try Macaroni Grill for some bland, oversalted food.”

“Might as well do our own pasta.”

“I don’t think the kids will cooperate long enough.”

“And what do we do about feeding the kids?”

“I’m tired.”

It doesn’t matter whether the Doctor starts this exchange or I do. We can both do either part in our sleep at this point. It’s our little “Who’s on First.”

We end up feeding the kids, putting them to bed, and passing out on the couch attempting to eat cereal without expending energy lifting the spoon. If only we could get the cereal delivered.