Though I keep insisting that I am not too big on resolutions, I seem to want to revisit this slippery slope in the last week of December every year without fail. I didn’t actually remember that I had written about it in this column last year, but when it popped up daring me to check whether I had kept any or all of my resolutions, I had to read it.
When the car in front of me came to a sudden stop in the middle of a relatively empty road because someone ahead had decided they wanted to turn, I braked a bit hard. And like a good human being, when my other half came off the back of his seat with a jerk, I said sorry. He giggled. Yes, giggled. And when your spouse does that, especially if you’ve been married for a fair amount of time, words are often not necessary.
My colleagues are completely baffled as to why changing the day my column appears from Tuesday to Wednesday, a rather simple decision that affects nothing, is taking me so long to make. I have been thinking about it (mainly due to the way my workweek starts), talking about it, but have done nothing about it for the past few months. I’ve now discovered why. Decision fatigue.
I found three booklets of postcards while clearing the drawers of my small office cabinet that I haven’t taken anything out of since 2009. These were photographs taken of Oman and all of its diverse landscape by a talented local photographer. Too nice to go into the recycling box, I decided instead to use them for the purpose they were intended for. Write on them and post them. With real stamps.
I have no idea whether I am a potato, a coffee bean or an egg. Please note that this is relevant in the context of hot water only. I remember helping someone learn this speech for a speak-up event - I had no clue regarding its origins, but found the premise rather interesting.