Some decisions are hard to make because there’s too many choices that are all basically the same. Like shopping for a Kindle cover. I wanted something sturdy enough and visually acceptable. And most of them were book-shaped, fake leather covered, with elastic tabs to hold the Kindle, about the same price, in a small sample of colors.
So I dithered. There’s a lot of brown, black, and gray, which I find boring. I have an objection to pink/ red that’s a holdover from well-meaning relatives who were unaware of the kind of skinned-knee, tree-climbing, shoe-losing child I was.
I wasn’t, in fact, a doll/lace/pink roses kind of girl. But it’s the thought that counts.
Also, dolls are a bit creepy.
Other decisions are hard because there’s no good choice. One of my cats (eight years old next Monday) has cancer that’s spread to his lungs. Treatment would very likely not help at all, and he hates the vet so much he’d likely injure himself badly if we tried.
So I’ve been watching him, giving him plenty of attention and treats, and looking for a sign that his quality of life isn’t good anymore. Yesterday wasn’t a good day. If today isn’t good either, I’m going to have to take him in. I have no desire to subject him to a slow, suffocating death. I also really, really don’t want to euthanize him. I’d like this to be an Eddie Izzard skit (warning: language) where I have another, better choice.
There isn’t one, but so it goes. You laugh and you cry and life goes on.