Decisions, decisions...

I stink at making decisions. I really do. When someone asks me what I'd like to eat, drink or whatever, I generally give some nonspecific answer because, usually, I really just don't care. Wine or beer, Coke or Sprite, La Croix or an Izze; I never have much of a strong preference.

This problem gets worse when we're talking about big ticket items. Like houses. Today, specifically, we're talking about houses.

I love our house. It's small, there's nothing particularly special about it, it seems like it's always a mess with five-- and soon to be six-- of us dropping a coat here or a book there but for whatever reason, I love it. It's home. And in a lot of ways I don't want to move anywhere; it's a lot of work, it's expensive and, besides, we're already home.

But then I think about our situation pragmatically and I know we'd be much more comfortable with another bedroom. And a family room. And maybe even an eat-in kitchen. So, we go house hunting and, invariably, we see a house we like yet Joe and I dawdle and ponder and, ultimately, never make a decision and see the house get sold to someone more capable of saying, "Yes, I want this house."

Today we saw a house. It's not a perfect house, but the soul of a really great house is there, it just needs some love and attention. It's in one of my favorite neighborhoods in our town. It's being sold well below market value. It has all the space we need. Yet again, we waver. It needs a LOT of work Joe and I say to each other. And it's true, it does. But look at this gorgeous red brick, Joe, and look-- real shutters! I say back. And Joe agrees, those things are lovely. But do we want to spend the next two or three years pulling up carpeting, patching ceilings and walls, ripping down outdated wallpaper and updating kitchen counters and bathroom fixtures? Maybe.

We have to be decisive now. There is already one offer in on this house. There's a deal to be had, a bigger house out there for us and, unfortunately for us, a major decision to be made.