the choices we have to make

It's Saturday night at 8:30. Mrs theWeir is at work and the weeWeir is asleep.

It's funny that the most difficult decision I'll face tonight is which book to read. And if I should enjoy an Islay or Highland malt to go along with it.

I'm hopeful that tonight won't need decisions made like "can I deal with the smell of vomit" or "what will I put in the washing machine with this stuff that's been used to contain aforementioned vomit".

Or I could just put the TV on and stop all this thinking nonsense.

Maybe not.