Down the Hall on Your Left

This site is a blog about what has been coasting through my consciousness lately. The things I post will be reflections that I see of the world around me. You may not agree with me or like what I say. In either case – you’ll get over it and I can live with it if it makes you unhappy. Please feel free to leave comments if you wish . All postings are: copyright 2014 – 2018

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

I HAVE TO MAKE A DECISION. I hate making decisions. No, that’s not quite accurate. I make a thousand decisions every day and I don’t mind it at all. We all make a pile of decisions all the time without even thinking about it.

Every morning we make a decision as soon as we open our eyes.

Decision #1: Shall I get up or roll over and say the heck with it all.

And so it begins.

Red socks or blue socks? Coffee or tea? Revolver or Semi-Automatic? It goes on like that all day until bedtime, and even then it’s Star Wars or Sesame Street Jammies? Paleontologists say that Humans are tool making apes. I say that we are decision making apes. It’s just not so obvious because we shave more often.

Most of our daily decisions are pretty mundane and slip by without a thought. A Six-inch or a Foot-long? But there are those decisions that require us to think and analyze the pros and cons of our ultimate choice. That’s the kind of decision I am being forced to make now.

I need to find a new Doctor. I don’t want to do that, but since my current Doctor is retiring I have no choice in that part of the question.

I certainly cannot begrudge him wanting to retire. He says that he wants to spend more time with his grandchildren. I give that about two weeks before he starts slyly looking at the “Office space to Let” ads in the newspaper. But still, that’s his choice and I have to respect it. Wait! No I don’t. I just can’t do anything about it short of “Making him an offer he can’t refuse.” But where would I get a horse’s head here in Terre Haute (That’s French for, “You have an appointment on Thursday.)?

The Doctor wants to retire. He certainly didn’t consult with me on this. I found out in a letter, a form letter, announcing his flawed decision. Attached to the letter was a list of other Doctors who might be willing to pick up the slack. None of them were named “Mengele.” Oh, goody, I get to choose.

Now I have to audition a bunch of Doctors to find the one to fill the void in my life. I’d rather be auditioning vision impaired knife throwing acts for a community talent show. Just gouge out my eyes now, please.

I ask you – Where am I going to find another Doctor who, in the middle of top to bottom physical exam, starts doing Donald Trump impressions? Where am I going to find another Doctor who confides in me that, in his youth, he inadvertently triggered a bomb scare and complete evacuation of a Mormon Tabernacle Choir performance? Where am I going to find another Doctor who stops in the middle of listening to my heart to tell me where to shop for really nice sweaters the next time I am in London?

Yeah, I know. Taking all of these things into consideration maybe it is time for him to retire. I have been going to his office for more than ten years and perhaps the thought of more years stretching out ahead of us was enough to send him over the edge. I know that there are days that I don’t want to spend time with me, but I can’t do much about that.

Like I said – our days are filled with decisions that cry out to be made, some easy, some difficult.

Paper or Plastic?

Soup or Salad?

Saturday night in a Hell’s Angels biker bar and you want to order an Appletini.

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions.

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