Every day I'm confronted with choices. Sometimes a few, sometimes hundreds.
I say that I want to do "the right thing". And if I listen honestly to myself, usually the right thing is pretty easy to figure out - I'm talking about on the most basic level.
And yet it's so easy to ignore the messages.
My lungs say, "I need you to take us out for a run." And all the other parts say, "Yeah, great idea, but...later."
My muse says, "Write!"; my mind says, "Sure, after you do a virus scan on this laptop. It sure is running slow."
Somehow, things seem to sneak in to make "the right choice" just a little bit harder. In the end, it really is my choice, and there are no excuses.
Not that I have anything against pie, mind you -- in fact, quite the contrary.