Too Much Choice
Too Much Choice ©
By Michael Casey
The thing about choice is that it spoils you, too much choice confuses and leads to delay and anger. I know this to be true as my wife is designing our new kitchen. The amount of swearing and cursing coming from the carpet as swatches and tiles and cupboard doors are dropped on the floor is unbelievable. I may just be a carpet but I just cannot be walked all over, I have feelings, you just pile on the pressure and vacuum me this way and that. I HAVE FEELINGS!
Choice means colour, a man knows basic colours, a woman knows 50 Shades of Grey and 500 shades of every other colour. So you can imagine the dramas in our house at the moment, it’s not red its more browny, more chestnut, more Father Christmas and less blood spattered horror film red. And on it goes, and this is just picking the colour of our workman’s gloves. Give a woman a choice she is spoilt, and mention colours, then you are busted, it’s all too much, you are like Daniel Craig after his last Bond film. Well with my wife it is, I may just be old fashioned, don’t talk of Fashion or we will be going down another Rabbit Hole, Alice in Wonderland here I come. Eat me, Hemlock I worship thee.
We had 50 Shades of Grey, the tile colour, the film is too timid, too limp, what we had was full on roaring and screaming, it’s not that colour it is not that shade of Grey or any other shade. And yes me and my girls did think of tying up mum, not ready for anything. Just so the whirl and swirl of colour would subside. It was like Jackson Pollard having a sugar rush, Brown Sugar as the Stones sung, I cannot get no satisfaction. And you wouldn’t if you were all tied up, but at least it calmed down mother, and the rainbow of colours ran through her head and all over our living room floor.
Sparkling ideas bounced around the kitchen, before the cat came in and puked on the floor, I know a cat has 9 lives but the amount of colour swatches and samples littering the floor was too much for the cat. It was a life or two lives away when she got stuck in the local hippies house. Whatever substance, whatever colour our pussy had licked up resulted in her fur standing up for 3 months. She kept on attacking the kitchen dustbin, it was only when we changed its colour 5 times did pussy calm down. An emerald green dustbin was the answer, the colour of grass calmed her down, as opposed to all the grass she has shared at the Hippy’s home.
But I digressed, when mother had calmed down we removed the masking tape, but despite the pain she was very pleased. Because on removing the tape it removed all the excess hair from all over her body, so it was an ill wind that blew no good. Then she hit me with the frying pan, the kids laughed and ran away. As the blood trickled down my face, she jumped for joy, for there was the colour she wanted. So she screamed for the kids to take a photo, and she forwarded it to her colour designer.
Now she had the perfect colour creations for her new kitchen, she was filled with joy and kissed me passionately, then seizing the masking tape she began to tie me up. Many thoughts passed through my mind, none of them grey. Once finished she slowly removed all her clothes, spun around and tipped the kitchen bin all over me and left it on my head. Naked she headed for the shower. She left me tied up with the bin on my head all night long. In the morning she dragged me into the garden, and hosed me down with the garden hose.
But she was ever so glad she had got the perfect colour combinations for her kitchen that she took me by the hand and we headed for the bathroom together. Just stopping to grab the Jeyes Fluid she washed me in the bath. You can imagine the rest. So now we have the perfect colour combination of a kitchen, only it’s too small now, you see one of us got pregnant, it must have been the allure of the Jeyes Fluid, super strength disinfectant. We are expecting triplets, I may call them Tom, Dick and Harry. Or more colorful names, but don’t let’s mention colours.
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