I guess you could say I’m indecisive. I have no problem making snap decisions about things I feel strongly about. No, those I can handle. It’s the small, seemingly inconsequential choices which trip me up.
Food related decisions are often the hardest. Heck, I could ponder over a menu for hours – which is why, once I know I like something at a particular restaurant, I tend to stick with it. But sometimes, even deciding where to go out to eat can be painful.
And it’s best if I do my grocery shopping unaccompanied. That way I can spend as much time agonizing over my peanut butter options all by my lonesome.
It’s not just foodstuffs that have me flummoxed on the shopping front. One day I dithered for longer than I care to remember in the body wash aisle, torn between the gentle scent of the “Touch of Sparkle” and the promised intense moisturizing capabilities of the ultra-rich shea butter with moisture beads.
Frankly, it was so traumatizing I considered going back to just plain soap.
Unfortunately, that too came in a number of varieties.
Even getting dressed in the morning can be a challenge. I’m fine if I pick out my clothes the night before, but if I leave that decision to my still sleep-fogged mind ... Let’s just say, I’m not at my best before my first dose of daily caffeine. The best part of waking up is NOT, in my opinion, deciding what to wear.
All that said, I’d like to stress that I’m not a complete basket case. Apart from these minor conundrums (which, admittedly, I seem to have an innate ability to blow out of proportion), I am able to handle most situations more decisively. Even those decisions which must be made on the fly. In fact, it is those types of decisions – when time is of the essence and the matter is more pressing than what I’m going to put in my belly – which are easier for me to make.
But sometimes, it is not the decision itself, but the action required after the choice has been made which proves more daunting.
I’m in the middle of one of those very situations right now.
It revolves around my car, the aging Ford Explorer which has been my primary means of transport for close to a decade.
Even though I’ve never come up with a cutesy name for her – and yes, she is most decidedly feminine despite her brawny 5.0 liter V-8 – my Explorer and I have been through a lot together. We’ve pulled off many a move, enjoyed the rays in the sunny Florida Keys, had our adventures in the Colorado Rockies, partied it up in the French Quarter and on the Las Vegas Strip, and eaten up thousands of miles of road along the way.
We’ve faced everything Mother Nature’s thrown in our way, from gale force winds, blinding snow, glare ice, freezing rain and pea-soup thick fog to torrential downpours, tropical storms and, yes, even a hurricane evacuation.
