Wednesday, February 11, 2009 9:46 PM CST
COLUMN: My new Craftsman inflator may blow the lid off my sanity
By PENNY WEAVER, Night News Editor
pweaver@jg-tc.com
Did you ever catch yourself spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about some silly little thing in life that, in the big picture, really isn’t worth more than a few minutes of consideration?
Maybe it’s just me.
I sometimes tend to dwell on little things ranging from whether or not to buy a new pair of slacks to where to hang a particular picture in the house, and all kinds of other oddball details.
Sure, I may be just a hop, skip and a jump from OCD. Actually, depending on which of my friends you ask, I may already be obsessive-compulsive. But I try not to dwell on it.
And, I prefer to call it “organized.”
I’ve caught myself using brain power on seemingly “small potatoes” kind of stuff like the best motorcycle boots — waterproof? tall enough to cover the entire shin? laces or zip up? hard sole or grippy rubber sole? — for example, and I consider and reconsider all kinds of options to make my decision.
Sometimes I feel like Winnie the Pooh: “Think, think, think.”
Now, some folks might decide that this frequent and disproportionate emphasis on little things is definitely obsessive. I say, it’s my way of crafting measured decisions in life, and carefully considering little things puts me in a good habit of being able to thoroughly explore the ramifications of bigger decisions when they come along.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
But I’m having more and more trouble defending my own little, um, shall we say, “quirks.”
This week, it was air compressors.
I have a little 12-volt portable inflator that plugs into the cigarette lighter in a vehicle to pump up a low tire in an emergency, for example. I also use it to air up my motorcycle tires, which need topped off more frequently.
I’d been thinking for a while of getting an air compressor. They’re faster and can be used for other things: airing up bicycle tires — more handy than the foot pump I have — blowing dirt, dust and leaves out of the garage, etc.
So I started to consider the options. I found a one-gallon pancake style air compressor at a local store for around $50. Another store that I like didn’t have one that small.
I searched online to see what advice I could get and what types of inflators or air compressors are out there. I like to look up the options online and then find what I want and buy locally.
Boy, did I feel stupid looking up “air compressors” on the Web. I can just hear my dad chuckling at me. What can I say? I learn a lot by reading, ’cause I’m too dumb to just figure certain things out on my own.
About all I know about air compressors is that they’re loud but handy, and Dad always had a big red one in the garage. I have no idea how many gallons it was — five? Ten? And PSI — well, I kind of know what that is. At least, I know it’s not a TV show or anything.
To make a long story short — Whoopsie! Too late — I discovered the Craftsman inflator. It’s cordless, rechargeable and should be pretty handy just for inflating tires, which is mainly what I need. It kind of looks like a cordless drill — certainly much less cumbersome than an ordinary air compressor.
But you’d be surprised — or, if you know me, maybe not — at how much time I spent thinking about this. I caught myself mulling it over and “worrying” over it like a dog chews and chews and chews on a bone.
Wow. “I have GOT to get a hobby!” I told myself: ceramics, stamp collecting, macrame, tatting (ask your grandmother) — something, ANYTHING more productive and stimulating than overthinking a tool that pumps air into various inflatables.
At this point — as I was telling my best friend about my nonsensical collision of thoughts — our conversation turned in a direction that can’t be repeated in a family newspaper. She did ask if I’d gotten anything via mail delivery lately that needs to be blown up, and I said, most emphatically, “NO.”
I choose to blame my obsessive — um, I mean, thorough — exploration of such little decisions on the overabundance of choices we have these days.
You can’t even pick out something as basic as soap without 10 decisions: Which brand? Which scent? Which form: bar or liquid? Which bottle: flip top or pump top?
All of us are worried about the economy these days, and the federal government is getting ready to spend absolutely obscene amounts of money to “stimulate” our financial well-being, and we can’t see our way to downsize.
No one needs 10 choices of a kind of soap. No one needs 10 options, ranging in price from $14 to $400, of air compressors. We’ve almost completely lost sight of the difference between what we “need” and what we “want.”
Make no mistake — I don’t need this Craftsman inflator, but I do want it. I want the handiness I expect from it. But it’s one of the many modern conveniences that are quite nice to have — and not “necessary.”
That’s how we Americans overextend our finances, and how our country has gotten into financial dire straits: confusing what’s needed with what’s optional. Food, water and shelter are necessities; cable TV, the Internet and cell phones are extras.
I guess I should be glad I have nothing more to worry about this week than a darned little tool that pumps air into tires, basketballs and snow tubes. I know — you’d think I’d have enough hot air all on my own for such tasks.
I don’t know. Maybe I should.
Let me give that some thought.
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Equalizer wrote on Feb 12, 2009 10:13 PM: