The Small Decisions That Drive Us Crazy

barry currin, stories of a world gone mad, beaverdamusa.comLife is full of decisions.

Some are big ones with life-changing implications. Do I get married? Do I change jobs? Do I buy a house?

Most of the decisions we are forced to make on a daily basis, however, are ridiculous and unnecessary.

I love orange juice. I always have. But I have almost turned myself against it because I always find myself standing there in the grocery store paralyzed trying to decide which kind to get.

The first question I am forced to ask myself is how much pulp I want in my juice. Should I get it with no pulp, some pulp or lots of pulp.

Once I solve my pulp quandary, I am then forced to decide if want it with extra calcium, extra vitamin D or 50 percent less sugar.

I just want orange juice, squeezed from an orange into a jug. Is that too much to ask?

Thankfully, some marketing genius at the orange juice factory had people like me in mind and decided to label some “Homestyle.”

I don’t know what Homestyle meant, and at the time I didn’t care. I grabbed it before I even gave myself a chance to read whether it had anything added, reduced or taken away altogether.

Coffee is almost as bad. How could anyone pick between dark roast, medium roast, classic roast or breakfast blend?

And I will eat your hat if you can tell me what French roast means.

The bathroom tissue aisle should come with its own grief counselor.

We shouldn’t need an advanced college degree in mathematics to decide whether 12 regular rolls at $5.99 is a better deal than 9 mega rolls at $7.49.

The grocery business in general is the worst offender, but it’s not the only one. 

I despise trying to figure out what kind of central air filter to buy.

Do I buy what the company calls the good one, which is also the lowest priced? Or do I splurge on the premium one? Or do I ride the fence and flip a coin between the two in the middle?

The expensive one supposedly stops something called microscopic allergens.

I don’t even know if I have microscopic allergens floating around, and if I do, I figure I need to get rid of them in the first place and not just try to corral them in the central air filter.

Now, in addition to not knowing which air filter to buy, I have to worry also about microscopic allergens.

I went to a website that sells air filters, and I honestly counted 168 different sizes.

It’s absurd.

Women have it rougher than men, though.

I’ve heard both my mother and Kim complain dozens of times over the years about trying to figure out which kind of pantyhose to buy.

Women pretty much don’t wear pantyhose anymore, and I think it’s because the decisions are too tough.

You go, girl. Burn those stockings and the eggs they rode in on. That’ll teach them.

I’m not sure why we ever needed a half million variations of this product. But I do know that hell hath no fury like a woman who bought reinforced toes by mistake.

Sometimes I think the big decisions are easier than the small ones.

About Barry Currin

Barry tries to be funny and poignant, and he's usually satisfied when he succeeds with one or the other. (Being both is awesome. And sometimes that happens.) Email him:

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