Decisions, decisions...

New Year is the time for resolutions and the making of decisions that could, with some luck, improve your life.

Which Cup??

It is the time, supposedly, for a new beginning. But one eventually reaches the age when there may not be much room or time left for self-improvement. “Been there, seen it, done it...” is the kind of sentiment that runs through the mind. So one might be left wondering what more is there to be done. “But there has to be something,” the subconscious nags. “Try and decide before the year becomes too old and stale and the opportunity for self-betterment is lost for ever.”

So, over the last couple of weeks, I’ve been thinking about potential projects to embark on to make 2013, personally, a better year.  I have identified parameters within which such self-improvement schemes might operate: There should be nothing too strenuous or inconvenient, such as exercising more or cutting down on the foods and beverages that I enjoy eating and drinking. However, I reckon that whatever I might decide on will definitely not be too onerous, because the appetite for immoderate or excessive indulgence has waned somewhat, rendering a major course-correction unnecessary. In any case, when I was in full-time employment we used to talk about CQI, continuous quality improvement, that is, meaning that you should regard every action, every day, as an opportunity to make service-delivery better. CQI has followed me to these more leisurely times, so, even though I don’t have to deliver anything now, I do wake up every morning thinking of the little ways in which I can do better.  

I hope I am not sounding too perfect for some tastes, but incremental steps have been my guiding principle to the point that now, at the beginning of another year, I am completely unable to set myself a meaningful target.

But wait, there is something on which I need to make a decision: That is, whether or not to get myself some new wheels. My current motor is now 18 years old and alas, has not been subject to CQI. When I bought it in 1994, it was an elegant, sleek animal that purred, no -sighed- like the wind from the desert. But now, after only 100,000 km, it has become tired and exhausted, with an engine noise that is nearer to that of an attack of acute bronchitis than to the rustling of the desert breeze. It has a sorry hesitancy in traffic, exuding thick clouds of black smoke. And its fuel consumption. Well... that amounts to a regrettable massive, massive carbon footprint.

I hear you: “Get it fixed.” But there is not a mechanic in this town who has not had his chance (usually a “he.” Only one “she,” so far…) at assessing, fondling or otherwise tinkering with its innermost parts. But all to no avail. So, a decision now has to be made to get some new transport. But we love this car, and the two-car family is not an option. For now, we are stuck.

Tell Fren Tru