I wrote a book about decision fatigue. Then, at the end of a long day, mentally spent, I made a decision to hand off judgment to software and not look at what it produced. I'd like to report that the irony occurred to me before Jana yelled. It did not.

Nobody in the room knows the routine. They saw a dance. We saw the gap between what we practiced and what came out. The gap is real and it's also invisible to everyone but you.

I quit for nine months. Three separate times. And every time, what ended it was a night out and a celebratory smoke. Celebratory. I'd banked nine months of evidence and then spent it as a reward for having banked it.

Every time you say you'll do something and don't, the thing you said gets a little cheaper. Not to the neighbor. The neighbor forgot about it walking back to the house. To you.

You did not fail to get what you wanted out of that meeting. You walked in without deciding what you wanted, then built the standard afterward out of everything you missed. Four questions to ask before instead of after. Because if you are playing hide and seek, know who you are looking for.

There was a stretch of my life where the same sentence kept showing up in my head. Why is this always happening to me.

Your circumstances are not always your fault. They are always your response-ability.