I hate making decisions. I am a textbook-case over thinker. I list the pros and cons in my head and then relist and rework them all before going over them again. Today I have a stupid decision to make: go for a run or go for a ride? This seems like a simple, uncomplicated question. Which do I want to do more? Ride, obviously. Then my horse has to do the work. Which is better for me? Running obviously. I had slotted an hour and a half to take highway 8 to highway 5 and then take Middletown Road back to my house. A little ambitious perhaps, but I wanted to try. Ride or run? Riding will take longer, which means I probably can’t take horses into the barn at 5 like I do everyday to help out a friend. So I should probably run. But the weather is beautiful and who knows how long that will last? So I should ride. But the warmer weather also means my horse will be too hot because he hasn’t shed out his winter coat. I don’t want to push him too hard. So I should run. But, I could always run on my treadmill (on full incline to punish myself) after dinner, but I can’t ride after dinner. So I should ride. Or should I?
See my dilemma? No matter how many positives and negatives I can come up for each activity, I am no closer to making my choice. Ride or run, run or ride, it doesn’t really matter in the long run (haha, I’m so lame). But this is how my entire life has gone. Which dinner should I order? Which dress should I buy? Should I drive with my mom or my dad? Babysit or go to the movies? Carlton or Laurier? Ride or run? Silly and little or big and important decisions, my method is the same.
I am not an impulsive person. I carefully make decisions, quietly thinking about it whether other people know it or not. It is my gift and it is my curse. At the end of the day it is always the same: ride or run? I don’t know. Maybe I should buy a magic eight ball to make my decisions for me. Although, knowing me, I wouldn’t be satisfied with asking it once. I would ask it an odd number of times, tally up they yeses and nos, not be satisfied with the answer, and start over again. Back to square one. I can sympathize with Hamlet: To be or not to be? That is the question. As to whether I ride or run, I don’t know.
Where’s my magic eight ball?