October 22nd, 2004
Oh boy, have I been busy at work. I mean, I'm not complaining at the new responsibility and I like being In Charge Of Things, as well as Creating Things from the vast swirling chaos of the unformed and unknown. But the work is pretty taxing, so that even my free time feels better spent playing Myst Revelations or watching the boob tube.
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You know what amazes me about shopping for clothes (like, oh, say, a woman's winter coat for example)? The variation in price for similar or sometimes identical items. You actually have to shop around until you find something you like for a low price. And the irritating and agonizing part of it is that the amount of choices makes it pretty sure that you will walk away wondering if you actually ever got a good deal or not.
It's sort of like buying cars, except that cars don't vary as much in price as clothing. A winter coat of comparable value can be $50.00 or $300.00, depending on the "sale", the store, and the position of the planets. Even a car wouldn't normally vary in price by more than 100%. It's enough to drive a man to drink, I tell you.
The large number of choices for just about any consumer goods could be a constant source of stress in my life if I let it. I first became aware of this in my late teens when I wanted to buy a backpack. I went to several stores, including the granola-eater hang-outs and found hundreds of packs of varying sizes, purposes, and qualities. But I had myself all worked up into a lather over which style/functionality to buy until my oldest sister reminded me that it probably didn't matter: A Day Pack could easily double as a beach-trip bag or a bookstore-purchase-orgy bag. Once that was settled I bought one and never regretted it.
So now I still occasionally get all bent out of shape by some purchasing choice, but I eventually reach that critical mass point where I shrug my shoulders and say to myself, "In the end, what difference will it make?" which really translates to: "What's the cheapest I can get away with?"
Of course, I'm a Taurus. Now, I've already stated that I don't buy that divinity nonsense, and you can extend my dismissal of all ethereal to astrology.
Um, sort of. You see, my family and friends all know that I am a Taurus, and I think they often (and unconsciously) treat me according to the traditional definition of the Taurus mentality. And in past years I think I may have read all about what constitutes a Taurus and gone out of my way to think and act like an archetypal Taruean. In either case, or perhaps because of both reasons, I do have a couple of Taurean tendencies: For example, I do have an urge for luxuriant items around the home. When I bought a new bed, I went for the largest and the most comfortable of its kind. When I bought a new TV, I went for the sharpest flat-screen technology I could afford (plus about 10%, because that is my lot in life).
So the price may be the first consideration, but it is tempered (no Taurean pun intended) by my pleasure-seeking streak.
But where was I? Oh yes, buying a woman's Winter coat. The shopping experience was greatly simplified by the presence of my wife. The coat was for her, after all, and she had definite ideas of her own about what she wanted and how much she was willing to spend. So there really wasn't any of that what-to-pay "choice stress" that normally accompanies my shopping trips.
And damned if we didn't find an excellent coat for little money after all!