Now I understand why people hire interior designers. And stylists. It’s not so much about taste and faking it – it’s about energy. Choice energy. It’s about power of veto. In fact life becomes about power of veto.
I don’t want to choose things, I want to edit things. My online shopping order comes up as ‘Your instant shop’ or whatever and all I have to do is trawl through and… veto. I don’t have to think, “Now, what do I feel like cooking on Thursday night? Ah, yes, I think I’ll invent a magical new mega-salad and for that I shall need pomegranate seeds, zatar and star anise…” Because clearly that is never going to happen. Instead, all I need to do is go, “Don’t want Lurpak, don’t need Lenor, taking a dim view when it comes to organic chicken mini fillets and goodbye to the over-priced blueberries. Actually no. Actually yes.”
I’m sick of choice. Wrung out by the vulgar paradox of all this choice. Don’t want to choose a car or curtains or a holiday. Don’t want to choose friends; it’s more of a ‘Not you, not you, definitely you if you’ll have me’ situation. Awful, maybe. But I can’t be trusted with decisions. I don’t want to be trusted with decisions. They don’t make me feel important – like they used to – they make me feel exhausted. Just present me with something I can veto. That’s all the creativity I can spare. That’s all the power I need.