The Power of the Fuck-It Day
One day a week of saying “fuck it” has saved my sanity during quarantine.
“That’s it. I’m having a fuck-it day! Huzzah!”
I cackle maniacally at my husband’s raised eyebrows and pour myself another whiskey straight.* A half-smoked joint rests seductively in the ashtray, and a cartoon bubble with visions of the gigantic four-cheese pizza I will soon consume dances over my head.
Normally, I’m a healthy eater, daily exerciser, and productivity addict. I listen to biohacking and self-improvement podcasts and read books about how to train your brain and develop productive habits. I almost never have more than one drink in a night, and marijuana is something I limit to before long hikes or sleep. I like to work. I try to write every day. I keep track of my macros and log my workouts. When I stray from my normal habits and routines, I struggle a bit with the uncomfortable feeling that I’m going to fall behind forever and die a failure — not an entirely healthy mindset, I realize, but I’ve found I’m healthier in general when I apply this discipline to my lifestyle.
Basically, I’m usually great at keeping myself on track, so to speak.
In normal times, these habits are a positive part of my life. But these are not normal times. A recent Gallup poll showed…
