Netflix emailed me apologizing for a shipping delay and said they’d credit my account 5%. I hadn’t noticed, but thanks Netflix. That’s awfully nice of you. I guess there were some problems with their site. We were college shopping on Monday, so were not looking at the site.
It seems others were, though. And lots of silly people got mad.
Some of the more memorable times of my life have been when I’m in a situation where each turn of the road or path leads me to something fun, unusual or breathtaking. It was that way my first time searching out tide pools on an island off the west coast of Scotland. I didn’t want to leave the island, knowing that behind the next rock was an even more wondrous tide pool. It was that way driving in Montana to Paul and Kelly’s wedding. Each turn of the road brought us to even more beautiful scenery. It was even that way last summer when we visited The House on the Rock in Wisconsin. Each room was full of more unusual items than the last. We had to see all of it, even if we were getting tired after several hours of walking.
So it’s no wonder that my favorite kinds of nighttime dreams are when I’m finding new and exciting things around every corner. This type of dream is usually associated with the purchase of a new house. I’m usually told that we need to move away from our house after we’ve already sold it and bought the new one. I’m always sad about leaving our house, but as soon as I begin to explore the new house I realize it is full of places to explore — so much so I may never stop finding new discoveries.
This morning when Dean got out of bed I was having one of those dreams. As I slowly awoke I realized it was not real and we had not sold our house. I was disappointed because the house in my dream was at least four stories high (plus the basement) and I’d only explored the basement and the two bottom floors. So, instead of getting up with Dean I fell back asleep hoping to get back to the dream about the house. It worked! I got to see the third floor of the house before finally waking up for good.
We visited St. Mary’s College in southern Maryland yesterday with my high school junior. She liked it. We liked it. She’s got a chance of being accepted there.
At the end of the week we’ll visit two more colleges – one in New Jersey and one of three in Pennsylvania. Clare needs to choose which of the three we visit in Pennsylvania. She just called up to me to ask, “What am I looking for?” I replied, “The college you want to visit.” She then asked, “What if I choose the wrong one?”
Now, that is a good question. What if I choose the wrong one? How many times have I worried about that? As a kid with limited spending money — What if I choose the wrong item at the five and dime? As a young woman thinking about getting married — What If I choose the wrong man to marry? As a career woman — What if I choose the wrong job offer? At any restaurant — What if I choose the wrong entré? As a homeowner — What if I choose the wrong shade of paint for the living room?
It goes on and on. You cannot possibly visit every campus just as you cannot paint your living room every shade in the paint store.
The thing about getting older is the fact that you know that you can usually change your mind. Even a bad college choice can be fixed. And if you visit the wrong college during spring break, you can visit one that is more right later.
Decisions are hard. Most of the time. Sometimes you never know if you made the right decision. It’s all a part of life.
Clare will make good decisions — based on her criteria. And if she makes a mistake she’ll eventually learn that mistakes are rarely irrevocable.
That said, I need to tell myself that. I need to be more decisive. I often sit back and let Dean make the decisions because I worry, “What if I choose the wrong one?”
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