WHY DO I ALWAYS DISAGREE WITH ME?
In the quiet of the night I might ask myself if this or that is right or wrong? But before I ask I fear I won't go along with me. So I'm hesitant and pray that I'll be pleasantly surprised just how wise I really am and find that I don't give a damn if I disagree with me.
But once the decision's made I am afraid it won't be precisely what I told myself to do. Then I will turn to the authority of last resort, my bathroom mirror that I fear. I'll take a while to test my smile and ask, is it sincere? Or would a frown be better for a trip downtown and make me look less like a clown when I try to profess my honesty?
It's so hard to make decisions that must undergo revisions based on provisions I've decided to impose on me. But here goes! No one knows as well as me and can think as rationally or logically and so, apologetically, this is what I'll do: put off to another day the quandary should I take my socks to the laundry or, what the hell, let 'em smell and stink no matter what my toes think of me.