The Decision Fairy lives on the same street as Santa Claus and Jesus, and like them, if you call on her, she makes life-changing decisions. Word on the street is that she’ll make up to twenty-five decisions a day for each person, but the truth is she’s tackled up to forty for me today: what I’ll eat/wear/say/should I type this/etc./etc.
Choices and opportunities are overwhelming, and lately I need her help more than ever. The thing I love about the Decision Fairy is that she doesn’t claim that her decisions are the right ones, but she does step up to the plate and make one. In the past, and by “the past” I mean fifteen minutes ago, I haven’t always been the best at making decisions. If I were, would I have ordered three different types of rolls at the sushi restaurant when I could only eat and afford two sets?
So the latest decision that I’ve been grappling with ad nauseam is whether I should move to Jamaica or not. I’ve been swinging between definitely yes, yes, and why don’t you travel a bit before settling down in one place for a lengthy period? Oh decisions, decisions. Nice to have, hard to make.
For the last ten minutes, I’ve been calling on the Decision Fairy. Another word on the street is that she’s involved in a biq quarrel with the Tooth Fairy and a low-watt kid who intentionally pulled out four of his teeth. Finances are always the number one reasons for arguments, aren’t they?
In my time of my need, my lovely co-worker has told me to “forget it all and become a flight attendant.” I like that advice… when DF shows up, will she say the same?