The mauvaise foi of organic veg

I believe it is good for a person to defy categorisation, to avoid labelling. On the other hand, we all feel the need to have a narrative by which we can live our lives. For some it could be a religious or Political belief system, or it could even be something as simple (and evil) as a job description. Sartre called it Mauvaise foi (bad faith):

“Bad faith is the attempt to escape anguish by pretending to ourselves that we are not free. We try to convince ourselves that our attitudes and actions are determined by our character, our situation, our role in life, or anything other than ourselves. Sartre gives two famous examples of bad faith. He pictures a girl sitting with a man who she knows very well would like to seduce her. But when he takes her hand, she tries to avoid the painful necessity of a decision to accept or reject him, by pretending not to notice, leaving her hand in his as if she were not aware of it. She pretends to herself that she is a passive object, a thing, rather than what she really is, a conscious being who is free. The second illustration of the cafe waiter who is doing his job just a little too keenly; he is obviously 'acting the part'. If there is bad faith here, it is that he is trying to identify himself completely with the role of waiter, to pretend that this particular role determines his every action and attitude. Whereas the truth is that he has chosen to take on the job, and is free to give it up at any time. He is not essentially a waiter, for no man is essentially anything."

It was staring at a box of vegetables that got me started on this. We have just started getting a weekly delivery of organic veg to our house. The veg arrives on a Wednesday, looking magnificent, delivered by a burly farm boy, looking gormless. As I stare at the veg, I imagine the meals that I will cook this week, and I am thankful that I am absolved of the responsibility to choose veg for myself. The veg is here, chosen for me, the meals are already determined.
I remember feeling similarly comforted when Maya first arrived. Just previously, I was feeling the weight of my freedom more keenly than ever, having just returned from our travels, and with no place to live. And then Maya came along, and all of a sudden, I was released from this existential curse of freedom – I now had the role of father to adhere to. All at once I had a reason for everything.
You would think that I would feel tied-down. In fact, the reverse is true. Having Maya is just the release I’d been waiting for.