Sunday, November 15, 2015
Hashtag First World Problems
Except in scenarios where I am trying to please someone else ("I don't know. Where do you want to go to lunch?"), I am decisive enough.
In terms of fashion, I know what I like, what I feel comfortable in, and, usually, where to secure these items.
If someone invites me to an outing or party, I know more or less immediately if I feel like participating (though I may say yes to be nice or because it's the right thing to do).
In terms of decorating, I know what I like, what my husband likes, and what he will tolerate. I'm comfortable with my not-quite-neutral proclivities. I do a bit of looking around and then I know it when I see it ... until now. Until now when I have become easily overwhelmed by styles and finishes of door knobs. Until now when I am googling "name of regular white paint color that everyone uses." Until now when I am incapacitated when it comes to choosing some tile for my foyer.
I am that person wanting to talk about tile with anyone who will listen. Marble. Slate. Travertine. Porcelain. Versailles pattern. Herringbone. Bueller? Bueller?
Over a decade ago, my hubby and I had dinner with one of his senior colleagues (not at his current job) and his wife. Over dinner, she bemoaned the fact that her cleaning person did not change the sheets the way she liked so that, grand sigh, she had to redo those beds after the cleaning person left. I thought to myself, "Will this be me someday? Dear Lord, do not let this be me. Who gives a flip how the beds are made? The sheets are clean."
Dear Lord, I'm not asking for real problems, just for perspective. Thank you for my life, exactly as it is.
The plan for tomorrow is to pick a flipping tile and move on with my life.