Debra Pickett

I've been kind of obsessed with the whole "I'm the decider" line, ever since the President uttered it last Tuesday. I find it a handy thing to shout out when there's a question of, say, what to have for dinner or what to do on Friday night.

Most of the decisions of real consequence in my house are, actually, made in consultation. But, when it comes to the completely insignificant stuff of daily life -- like what we buy at the grocery store -- I'm all over it. This is primarily because I have very little patience for analysis.

R., on the other hand, has an unbelievable talent for accumulating and processing data. This has proved enormously useful in many areas of our life together. For example, I can say with some confidence that we pay less for airline tickets than anyone else we know. Because he has no problem spending an entire day (or more) finding the best possible deal.

But, while this is a valuable skill in big-ticket purchases, it tends to be largely un-helpful with small ones. The question of what to have for dinner isn't really about the most perfect solution for our nutritional needs. On most nights, after work, it's about getting decent food into our mouths as quickly and easily as possible.

"I'm the decider!" I announce when I make the call that tonight (possibly our last night without a fully functional kitchen?!) is the night for frozen pizza and Caesar salad. And I've got to admit, it feels good.

I know why Dubya could barely suppress his grin when he said it. Being The Decider totally rocks.

And, apparently, at least a few other people think so too, as evidenced by this New York Times piece about being The Decider in a relationship. (Extra points to the reporter for quoting a dominatrix. The S&M perspective is missing from way too many news stories these days.)