Recently I’ve had more than my poor brain can deal with: too many decisions, too much information.
Sweet Lizzie was shaking a few minutes ago so I covered her with a lap robe, which she doesn’t seem to mind. I chose to bring her to a new groomer who shaved her more than we wanted. Was this the right outcome?
We’ve been keeping up with the events overseas and domestic politics. We can’t do a thing to stop this war. It’s up to the Russians themselves to dethrone Herr Putin, and it’s up to the Red States to dethrone Trump and his minions in Congress and state governments.
I can feed Lizzy but can’t force her to eat.
I can try to get my money back from the PayPal scammer but how likely is that to happen?
Yesterday the Seagate failed. Which file repair software to buy and install? There was a lot on the drive that I don’t need, but I was able to retrieve a number of files that I want to keep.
Decision about the truck: fight with the old repair shop about work errors made a year ago or pay another shop to fix it.
I see the surgeon tomorrow but the drain incision has been sore and oozing. Do I remove the drain myself or wait?
Do I have peanut butter with breakfast or with lunch?
I dreamt last night of losing track of the tall adopto-raptor in a crowd and feeling no regret at all.
Then the Ron surrogate, a dashing young blade, announced “I have plans: for all five of us” and ran off with three girls. The dream ended before I could get up to follow. I felt no regret at that, either.
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
Am I J. Alfred Prufrock?