Second Guessing

I have a real problem with second guessing, which makes it extremely difficult to make decisions. I read something recently about how brain scans show that we decide immediately and rationalize later. This might be apocryphal, but if it’s true, it means that I’m just messing with my decision -making process and probably not getting better results. So when it was time for me to decide where exactly I was going to be removing my stuff to the next morning, I was paralyzed with indecision and changing my mind at every moment. I barely slept. I woke in the night and couldn’t feel my hand, not because I was sleeping wrong on my arm, but because of how much I was tensing it.
I finally reasoned to myself that it really didn’t matter which I picked, I just had to pick something. Within a few months, I would have had something positive come out of it and decide I’d made the right choice. I’d say, “well XYZ sucked, but if it hadn’t happened, I never would have met ABC and then JKL wouldn’t have happened, so it’s really great I took that flat.” Both would therefore be the right choice. So I went with the better location because I didn’t want to have to call the landlord and then go get my stuff back from him.
I let a SUV thing. It was my first time driving on the left side. I loaded it up with stuff and then struck out on the motorway and then drove through central London, getting extremely lost. I’m glad to have a GPS thingee. I almost hit one other car once, but they honked and danger was averted. I probably was also too far over to the left, because of being used to seeing the road from a different perspective. Anyway, I arrived and stuffed all my belonging’s into a closet in my new landlord’s flat and then retired to Paula’s flat, as my new landlord had not yet vacated the flat to be mine. He’s an ok guy, but dealing with him is kind of strange, “oh, look, my cheques say ‘Ms.’ The bank must have been confused because my name is a girl’s name in England. heh. I’ll need to ask for a new checkbook.” Being stealth without any kind of legal status or anything except T and bravado, is well, it helps being foreign because it gives cover to any off mannerisms. And anyway, I went to stay with Paula, but not before I backed the rental car into a bollard and took out part of the rear light fixture. I sprung some extra £ for zero deductible on the insurance and that was money well spent. But it’s still highly displeasing to back into something and hear breaking glass.
Paula’s flat is ripped to hell because she’s remodeling her living room. This timing is just bad. So Nicole and the dog and I went to Brighton and camped. Brighton is a cute beach town. It rained one of the days, but was largely ok. We’d been talking about doing a bike trip, but I just felt stressed and wanted to relax, so the only biking we did was between food, the beach and camping. We came back on Saturday for gay pride and marched with FTM London. It’s really weird being at pride – or especially in the parade – and not knowing anybody. But there seems to be a good trans community and I’m looking forward to getting involved in it as I’m hoping it will be a major source for my social circle as it forms.
Originally, my new landlord said he would remove himself by this weekend, but that changed to Tuesday. So I’m still without a flat. Nicole and I were talking about biking to (or from) Oxford as a nice way to fill the time of homelessness, but it’s scheduled to rain the entire time and I was extremely tired after camping and then being in a gigantic crowd of strangers – not all of whom are entirely in favor of the whole LGBT acronym. I wanted to nap. So the bikes stayed chained up and I napped. And then we watched TV and were generally as lazy as one can be in a flat with no living room. This lack of space is kind of trying. I’ve been attempting to avoid second guessing. If I’d taken the other room, I’d be moved in and unpacked and working by now, but it will all be equal soon, so who cares, so stop thinking about it. Things can’t be changed now, so deal.
This evening, somebody rang the bell to ask if we were the owners of the bikes that had been chained to the doggy ride were no longer there. Indeed, my bike and nicole’s bike have both been nicked. The dog trailer, however, was left behind. somebody with a lot of patience sliced through both a chain and a U-lock and made off with two green Bromptons, neither of which I will ever see again. They also got my tire patching kit, an extra headlight and my clips.
This move has been suxxors. If I were somehow transported back in time to re-decide, I would go the other way. Man, I loved that bike.
I’m flying back to the US in a week to play a gig. I need to do quite a bit of work on the piece, but I don’t have a flat. I don’t have my bike. I am displeased.