Too Many Choices!

I don’t grocery shop—mainly because Hubby (bless him) does the cooking, so it makes sense that he’d do the shopping. Plus, we’ve both agreed that it’s embarrassing when I go to the grocery and start twitching at the endless decisions.

The cereal aisle is the worst. Why on earth do we need 27 different kinds of
corn flakes? I mean, really. If I wander down that aisle I’m doomed. My eyes glaze over and I’m struck dumb with the simple multiplicity of options. Sugared? Plain? Berries? White? Brown? Chocolate? Polka dot? Please, get me out of here!

And it’s not just the grocery. When we moved into our current abode I went
to select wall paint. Ah, that was special. There’s a reason all of our walls were white for a long, long time.

Nor is this indecision a new thing. I recall back in the heyday of wallpaper (in
the early ‘70s) Mom took me to pick out wallpaper for my bedroom. Did you know they had entire STORES with nothing but wallpaper samples? Really, it was totally paralyzing and too big of a decision for my poor addled brain. After weeks of searching Mom gave up and picked out something while I was in school.

Surprisingly, though, I can decide on some things rather quickly. I can clothes-shop an entire mall in only slightly longer than it takes to walk straight through it. I know if an item will look good enough to bother facing those horrific  dressing room mirrors. (What sadist thought those up, anyway? I’d like to punch him in the nose). I know what colors will look good on me, and I can usually tell at a glance that those adorable heels will hurt enough to make me cry.

Years ago Mom and Dad would occasionally take my sister and me shopping at a huge outlet store in Florida near their (then) home. Dad’s tolerance was about an hour.  I could whip through the store, try on the clothes—even model them for his approval (only fair—he was buying) and come out with dozens of things. My sister, on the other hand, would hunt endlessly, try on almost nothing, and rarely bought a thing. It made Dad crazy. He loved to treat us to a shopping spree, and he took it personally that she couldn’t find something to buy. I think eventually she just bought stuff knowing she’d donate it to Goodwill once she got back in town. Wimp.

Nowadays I select wine by the label (pretty picture? Cute name? I’ll take it) and paint colors by the (ridiculous) name. (“Morning Starlight”? Sounds great. Give me a gallon…)

William James said “When you have to make a choice and don't make it, that is in itself a choice.” Smart guy—he’s right. But I’ll bet he faced the cereal aisle…