Peeling Potatoes, Episode 36 — The Decompression Episode
Or: Wi-Fi, Excavators, Egg-Topped Burgers, and the Art of Not Losing Your Mind
“Are we live, Fruitloop?”
“We are live.”
And like all responsible spiritual leaders, The Mayor immediately escalates.
“Raise your hands. Middle finger and thumb together. Close your eyes. No cheating. Repeat after me. Episode 36. I will give the mayor grief.”
Thus begins the decompression episode.
Not Episode 37. Not Episode 35. Not the lost-in-editing-abyss Episode 36-that-never-was.
This is Episode 36 (again). Which is fitting. Because decompression rarely happens the first time you try.
When the Wi-Fi Becomes a Personality
It has been, in Fruitloop’s words, “a week.”
The Wi-Fi has developed moods.
The household greeting is no longer “hello,” but:
- “Is the Wi-Fi on?”
- “Is the Wi-Fi fixed yet?”
- “What is the Wi-Fi company saying?”
Fruit Loop announces she may legally change her name to Is The Wi-Fi Fixed Yet.
The provider replies with the most corporate sentence in existence:
“We know this is frustrating.”
The Mayor is unconvinced they truly grasp the global scale of this disturbance.
But here’s where the episode quietly shifts.
Because while the municipality is digging up water pipes with excavators apparently allergic to fiber optic cables, something unexpected happens inside the house.
The fridge gets cleaned.
Cupboards get sorted.
Laundry disappears.
The house becomes suspiciously tidy.
The husband can’t play video games.
The son can’t watch Spongebob.
So they:
- play games,
- go outside,
- cook together,
- and then responsibly rebel with fish and chips.
And this is where the learning begins.
The disruption wasn’t just damage.
It was interruption.
And interruption created presence.
Without intending to, the household recalibrated.
“It’s Not the Wi-Fi’s Fault.”
When asked if she would remain friends with the Wi-Fi if it were a person, Fruitloop says yes.
Because it’s not the Wi-Fi’s fault.
It’s the municipality’s fault.
Bright Link becomes Dark Link.
Or No Link.
Blame flies, but gently.
Notice something subtle here:
There is frustration, but no bitterness.
Humour absorbs the sharp edges.
This is co-regulation disguised as teasing.
“You jinxed it.”
“It’s the municipality.”
“Only a woman can display this logic.”
“I’m blaming the municipality.”
The rhythm is: tension → joke → logic → absurdity → back to care.
That’s not random banter.
That’s two nervous systems stabilizing each other.
Meanwhile, 9,000 km Away…
The Mayor has had his own week.
A victory, technically.
He has built an automated booking system. Google Sheets talk to Zoom. Zoom talks to products. Products talk to booking slots. Magic happens in 30 minutes instead of two days.
But cognitive load is expensive.
He admits:
- brain fried,
- patience thin,
- shaving takes ten minutes,
- everything slightly on edge.
This is the other side of achievement.
Success without regulation becomes exhaustion.
And then spring arrives.
Blue sky. 17 degrees. After months of winter gunk.
Which is exactly when procrastination whispers: mañana.
So he does something rare.
He asks for help.
Doodlehorse Enters the Chat
Instead of solving philosophy, Fruitloop starts with something radical:
“Let’s start with dinner.”
Not productivity theory.
Not mindset reframing.
Not optimization.
Dinner.
Because when the brain is overloaded, the body must anchor first.
Friday: cheeseburger. Spicy. With lettuce, tomato, pickles. Possibly cheese (cholesterol negotiations ongoing).
And — scandal — a fried egg on top.
Saturday lunch: pasta with shrimp and The Mayor’s elaborate shell-to-sauce ritual.
Saturday dinner: chicken salad.
Sunday: chicken à la king (the king is in the sauce) and steak frites with pepper sauce, because France requires dignity.
Food becomes structure.
Structure becomes stability.
This is the lesson hidden in logistics:
When overwhelmed, reduce complexity. Stabilize the basics.
The Two-Minute Revolution
Then comes the pink Post-it.
Color-coded. Chosen deliberately.
The two-minute rule.
Anything that takes two minutes — do it now. Shrink the list. Reduce psychic weight.
Programming gets time-boxed.
Cat blankets go into the wash at 5:00 a.m.
Coffee is non-negotiable.
Stop before frustration becomes “wonky.”
Because productivity isn’t mechanical.
It’s emotional.
The real enemy isn’t the task.
It’s the spiraling mind.
The Mustard Escalation
At one point, The Mayor announces he will make mustard.
Then vinegar.
Then possibly an artisanal revolution.
Fruit Loop confesses her mustard tasted like aggressive vinegar regret.
And here lies another quiet truth:
Overwhelm often disguises itself as ambition.
When life feels messy, we want to conquer something grand.
But discipline is rarely dramatic.
It’s chicken salad.
It’s washing cat blankets.
It’s sending a photo of a properly constructed burger.
The Duo Pattern
Observe the asymmetry:
He escalates.
She simplifies.
He abstracts.
She grounds.
He spirals into existential gardening despair.
She says, “Maybe just pull some weeds.”
Neither competes.
Neither dominates.
They counterbalance.
A strong duo is not similarity.
It’s complementary regulation.
And because there is teasing without threat, contradiction without ego, advice without superiority — it works.
The Ritual Returns
At the end, they return to the fingers.
Thumb to middle finger.
Eyes closed.
Breath in.
Ridiculous?
Yes.
Effective?
Also yes.
Ritual marks transition.
Episode 36 wasn’t about Wi-Fi or to-do lists.
It was about shifting from chaos to calm deliberately.
So What Do We Learn?
That disruption isn’t always destruction.
That humour is a stabilizer.
That structure can be an act of care.
That productivity collapses when regulation collapses.
That blame doesn’t need hostility.
That two nervous systems, when respectful and playful, create resilience.
And perhaps most importantly:
Even when the Wi-Fi dies,
Even when automation fries your brain,
Even when the garden is a disaster,
Even when the to-do list looks like a legal document,
You can still:
Cook something simple.
Laugh at the absurd.
Divide tasks into two-minute chunks.
And breathe.
Episode 36 is decompression not because everything was solved.
But because nothing had to be dramatic.
It was simply two people choosing not to spiral at the same time.
And that — more than fiber optics, more than automation, more than mustard experiments —
is the infrastructure that actually holds.
