Unlike some of my friends, I don’t have trouble deciding what to eat in restaurants. Just tell me what’s gluten-free, and I’m good to go.
Buying clothes? Not a problem. No anguishing over whether it’s “me.” It is or it isn’t. (Of late, “me” has changed a bit, but that’s another story.)
But lately, bigger decisions seem harder. For example, my right hip is bothering me. I’ve had my share of surgeries—knee replacement, break in the other hip, cataracts—and I’m just not up for another hospital visit with a long recovery. So I’ve decided not to decide, for now.
Two tough decisions are/were on the table in the last couple of months. First, should I take an early retirement package? No, I decided. I love my job. But then a couple of my close colleagues who were going to stay on changed their minds and took the buyout, and I had to rethink my own decision. I didn’t change my mind, but I felt less confident that I had done the right thing.
The second decision is still on the table. It’s about where we want to/should live for whatever years we are lucky enough to have in front of us. We love our house. It’s a smaller version of the house where we raised the children, and it seemed perfect fourteen years ago when we moved here. But it has four floors and more space than we need except for the two to five days a year when the kids come to town. We love our neighborhood and our neighbors, but we wouldn’t go far away.
One thing I am sure about is that neither of us wants to live here without the other. And for obvious reasons, when this will happen is totally unpredictable. Does that mean we should move now?
I am losing sleep over this one.