How farming tricked us into harder lives than foraging

You start with the best intentions. Last spring, you scrolled through an ad for that fancy water purifier. It promised pristine H₂O, so you spent half a day ordering it online. That night, you ogled the sleek pitcher sitting on your counter. Three hours later you were scrubbing limestone deposits from its filter—and you forgot to sleep. The next morning your boss pinged: “Ready for that 7 AM call?” You forgot you’d signed up for the extra time zone hours too.

A few weeks in, you realize the purifier is good, no doubt, but not life-changing. Your tap was mildly OK before, and you can live with mildly OK. Yet now you’re locked in—clean filters, dripping spatters, constant resetting of water alerts. Meanwhile, your half-drunk coffee sat on your desk, stone-cold, because you had to take selfies for the Instagram launch. Now you wake up four times a night to hump 30 pounds of filter charcoal from the garage. You find yourself longing—ironically—for the old box of tap filters sitting in the back of the hall cabinet.

You might be wrong, but I bet the purifier was a luxury trap in disguise. You set out to work easier, only to have your days become harder and more distracted. That’s the bargain of luxury: it looks like freedom but locks you into new chores. Course-correcting takes courage, yet it’s doable—just dial back that thing you thought you needed. You’ll likely end up with more calm, more space, and yes, more sleep.

Tonight, brew a cup of bargain‐brand coffee and let the coffee machine gather dust. Notice how less clutter in the kitchen eases your mind—no screens buzzing, no lens to clean. Keep your favorite mugs out, stir with a spoon, and in that quiet ceramic cup, taste where you were before. You might find you’ve reclaimed more than your counter—you’ve reclaimed choice.