The Mustard

So I'm on day three?  Four?  Of an unholy exhaustion backed by stunning headaches.  The world is challenging, and by that I mean just walking from one room to the next, nevermind navigating the challenges of human agendas, re-evaluations, meetings, and word choices.

I drag myself to the store anyway because I need something. I'm not sure what exactly, but it's important so I wander the aisles, sure I'll remember if I see it.  So I get some cheese (because, you know, my life is cheese) and some plastic bags (becasue, you know, uhm) and somehow I'm standing there in front of a display of mustards and this one looks pretty good, and I can't remember if we have mustard or not, and it's all sort of hard you know, and there we are, I'm stuck.

Stuck trying to decide if I should buy this mustard. Long moments go by, and yes, I realize I'm stuck, and that it's not a good use of my time and I'm not really having that much fun, but if I walk away without a decision, I'll have really wasted my time, and besides, hell - do we need mustard?

Desperate, I channel the lizard. Says he: "so, is it worth three dollars and sixty nine cents to stop wondering about whether to buy the mustard?" I consider that and then I nod.  "Okay," he says. "Then buy the damned mustard."  A decision! I take the bottle and slog to the checkout, happy to spend three dollars and sixty nine cents to get free.

And - bonus! - we now have mustard.