Quite simply, I can't make decisions. Whether it's what to cook tonight, whether to tackle the WIP or blog (guess what won today), whether to do take yet another mistake to the Oxfam shop or hoover under the bed (Oxfam shop), what to take to the Oxfam shop in the first place (today, old tee shirts and an anorak. I think...), whether to phone the vet and pay my bill (after all, I've got to do it some time). What is the matter with me?
I dither over such clothes as I buy (I don't buy many), and when I finally decide that I will buy That Garment, it's gone (or the the very next day, it's in the sale. How infuriating is that). I dithered over whether to buy another horse, because they are a luxury, and Titch was irreplaceable (horse won); I dithered over whether to have saxophone lessons (I really liked the idea, but still haven't got round to it).
So here I am, living as it were in a big room, with lots of open doors. I can't quite decide which door(s) to go through, so they all remain open, but the rooms/oportunities beyond remain unexplored.
Is there a name for this disease*? And more to the point, is there a cure? Anyone...?
(*It's hereditary. I have at least one very dithery son, the poor love.)