Why the order makes sense

Nobody orders a takeaway on a Tuesday because they've weighed it up and decided it's the best use of the evening. They order because at seven o'clock, with the question in the room and nothing decided, it's the only answer that doesn't need anything from them. It's worth being honest about what the order gives you, because a habit that gave you nothing wouldn't be a habit.

It gives you relief from the question. The moment the order goes in, the deciding is over, and the deciding was the hard part. It gives you food without effort at the hour when effort is at its lowest. It gives you food you know you'll like, because the app has learned what you like and the kitchen at the other end is better at it than you think you are. It gives you a small pleasure at the end of a day that didn't have many, and the pleasure is real. And it gives you back the evening, because the wait is time you can spend on the sofa rather than at the hob.

Underneath those there's usually a set of beliefs, and they're the chapters that follow. That you're too tired. That you can't cook, or can't cook well enough for it to be worth it. That ordering is quicker. That it costs about the same once you've bought the ingredients. That you've earned it. That it's not worth cooking for one. That the kitchen's a mess and you'd have to clean it first. That you don't know what to make, and there's nothing in anyway. Each of those has something true in it, and each of them is doing the same job, which is making the event look like the only alternative to the order.

The order is an answer to a real question. This book isn't going to tell you the question isn't real. It's going to look at whether the event is the only other answer, because I don't think it is, and the research on what actually stops people cooking points the same way. Then it'll look at what the order costs, which is more than money and not mainly health. And then it'll give you a way to answer the seven o'clock question before seven, so that the app stops being the only thing in the room that has a plan.