Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For

I’m sure there was a time when people had limited choices.

You want a lipstick—you got red or pink.

Want a TV? You got color or black and white.

Need milk? You could choose from whole or skim.

But now, we have a plethora of choices with just about anything we want to wear, buy, or make. There are different colors and sizes and shapes. 

And quite frankly, sometimes it’s just too dang much.

When I have too many choices, I initially get excited. I think of all the prospects to select from.

Then I freeze like a squirrel in the middle of the road.

Luckily, my freezing doesn’t throw me into a situation of life or death. In fact, during true emergencies, I tend to keep a level head and am often able to think clearly when others are running in circles and screaming.

But choosing the color for a new pair of slippers? I’m bug-eyed and zoned out.

When I was going through a rough patch (because, let’s face it, who hasn’t during a global pandemic), a friend sent me a gift card to her favorite online store.

It was kind. It was thoughtful. And it was wonderful.

But I still haven’t spent it yet.

Because I had never before seen the aforementioned online business, I was enthralled. So many colors! So many products! So many outfits!

And I couldn’t narrow it down.

I thought I had chosen something. But then the site sent me an email with lots of new products to see.

I was doomed. You know, but in a good way.

Brad, my wise husband, said, “It’s a gift. There are no wrong choices here.”

This, from the guy who hates shopping of all kinds, and who often looks to me to help him choose an outfit.

I’ve done this with gift cards, birthday money, or “fun money;” the last being money I put in a particular envelope or make note of. It’s usually from a project I didn’t expect, cash from stuff we’ve sold, or something like that.

I spend so much time thinking and pondering and obsess…well, let’s just stick with thinking and pondering for now.

You would think that I was shopping for the last good kidney at the kidney transplant store. 

Back when we could be comfortable inside physical stores, I could drag this out like no other. I would pick items up. Then put them back down. Put something in my cart. Then take it out. I could try on an outfit, get all the way up to the counter, and do an “about face,” and place it back on the rack.

Yep, I’m just a joy—a joy I tell you—to shop with.

I used to almost always have “buyer’s remorse” after making a large purchase.

We settled on our first home. I was crying the next day, thinking I had made a mistake. I hadn’t.

Same thing with the first car my husband and I bought together. I got over that one quickly, though, because it beat driving my old car, which had a tendency to stall anytime I had to stop when coming down a hill.

Even with our dream home that we’re in now—I remember freaking out after settlement. Brad turned to me and said, “We want this. It’s okay. Chill out.”

Somehow, I learned to chill with big purchases. Now it’s the little ones that cause me issues.

Because the proverbial “hunting and gathering” process is different when you’re shopping on a computer, the only person I’ve been driving up the wall during the pandemic is myself.

Should I choose this? Or should I pick that? 

Let me clear something up. If I know I want a particular item—let’s say a LEGO set that I’ve been admiring–it’s easy for me to make that decision. I want it. When I get the money, I buy it. Easy peasy.

But when I get a gift card—ooohhhhh, the possibilities are just endless.

Perhaps that’s why it takes me so long to choose. I love the thrill of the hunt.

Speaking of that, I’m heading back to my online safari. 

If I’m not back in three days, send help…

Michele “Wojo” Wojciechowski, when she’s not lost in the aisles of the internet looking aimlessly at many amazing products, writes “Wojo’s World®” from Baltimore. She’s also the author of the award-winning book Next Time I Move, They’ll Carry Me Out in a Box. You can connect with Wojo on Facebook or on Twitter.

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