Eight to Twenty

I recently heard an interesting statistic – a consumer makes eight to twenty decisions just to get to the purchase stage - for anything. In a world where we have shelves and shelves of different types of toothpaste, lotions, and even WATER, sometimes I’d like to be told what to do, or what to buy. But not by paid advertisements or suggestive selling.

A few weeks ago I received a summons to appear in court for failing to make the required improvements to my house within the city’s designated time frame (three months).

When I called the city inspector, I did sound like Stupid Single Girl – but he sounded like Bureaucratic Bob. Here’s how it went down:

“Yes, I’m calling about the, um, the, uh, citation I received in the mail.”

“You mean the violation.”

“Yes, ok, the violation,” as I cringed. While it's only a word, I did not like it. Citation was a little bit softer, and apparently inaccurate. And thus began a week’s worth of mental self-flagellation. The world wasn’t crumbling – nor was the house – but I still felt guilty about my procrastination, which lead to the citation (I mean, VIOLATION), which lead to my temporary disintegration into an indecisive being.

Then I got my “I am woman, hear me roar” homeowner shit together. Within a week I had the two projects completed. I just dragged my feet because picking a contractor overwhelms me. The expense, the unknown, the worry that I pick the “wrong” one and don’t know it. Till a year from now when I come home from work, or vacation, only to find my home, my big mortgage of a house, in a heap - all because of a fatal error. Just like what happened to my great aunt’s friend’s neighbor’s cousin’s sister-in-law who hired the cheaper contractor who ripped her off - and look where SHE is NOW?!

I’m not always this indecisive. I knew I wanted this house – my house - when I first drove by and saw the ‘for sale’ sign, five years ago. I’ve known what job opportunities I did want and did not want. I know what friends I want surrounding me, etc. It’s just these damn house projects that sometimes make me feel like such a girl. Guess I got over it with car repairs, I can get over it with the house. But, for the record, it's still a pain.