Oh well, eat some French toast

Like magic, all is well in my blog world again. 

I do not know what happened with the formatting on that last post.  I figured something wonky happened when my live-in techie updated my laptop.  But then I slogged through another round with that formatting and it zippity-doo-dah-ed into the nether regions of the interweb, and I quite literally threw my hands up and walked away.  For a few days. 

Color me both shocked and pleased to find us all back to normal around here.  I will express my rejoice-y-ness with an excessively long post tonight.

(I jest.)

(Or do I?)

Here's tonight's current conundrum: We bite the big one when making significant decisions, especially those tied to money.  We are wishy.  We are washy.  We talk until we're blue in the face and all out of words.  Then, we sleep on it and come at it again in the morning with "I had a thought..."

Friends, there are few decisions in my life that I can pinpoint as "easy" or "without questioning the many and varied consequences ad naseum and ad infinitum."  In fact, I can think of two times when this happened (in my entire life).  T-W-O times and T-W-O times only when I acted with that effervescent, "trust fall' quality.  I'm here to say that those both worked out quite well for me.

I'm also here to say that I didn't learn how to act like that more often.

Oh, no.  I've realized that I need to stop chatting so glibly with area realtors, volunteering how we've been looking for a new house off & on for five years now.  (They don't take you all that seriously, see?)  I also need to stop torturing myself by looking at properties for sale.  There's no point!  It's all futile!  You'll rot/be here forever!

After the girls were tucked away tonight, and the boy started asking questions like "What do you see as the purpose here?" and "How much do you foresee needing to keep in reserve?"  I added the italics because what I'm really hearing through all of this is "What do you see as the VAGUE, COMPLETELY NEBULOUS ANSWER here?" and "How much do you THROW A DART needing to MANIPULATE OUR PENNIES FIFTY DIFFERENT WAYS AND THEN COMPARE THE RESULTS." And at this point, when there are no right answers and not a single bit of this ongoing conversation ends in anything other than spending fistfuls of cash, I think the answer is surprisingly easy.

Eat carbs.  Avoid making a decision.  All will be right in the world.

That French toast was both delicious and a sitting duck for my angst.

As I was both starting to fixate on syrup-y bread and hearing my voice become whinier, I remarked how lousy we are as an bonded adult unit when making decisions.  The boy suggested that some people just need more practice.  Suffice it to say, we are those people, and (dare I say) we are very possibly regressing.