One of the most incredible things that has happened in the grocery world, in my mind, has been the advent of the rotisserie chicken. Space exploration has had the moon landing, medicine has had the polio vaccine, and rock-n-roll has had the Beatles. But groceries now have rotisserie chicken. This invention is akin to man inventing the wheel.

When I first saw this edible exposition I was awestruck. I am quite sure that had there been a security camera videotape of my expression, my wonderment would have been made clear by my gaping mouth.

And the packaging! The appearance of the delightful bird is displayed in a clear plastic tub that you open like the hood of your car. You open it, you eat some or all of it, you close it. Later you can do it all over again. Sometimes you just open it to admire it.

And the taste! It is juicy, tender and succulent. Magnifique!

Anyway, today at Hornbachers grocery store I was extremely conflicted as to whether or not to buy a rotisserie chicken. Or is it Rotisserie chicken? Anyway, at that moment of indecision, which turned out to be way more than a moment, I couldn’t ‘pull the trigger’ of decision making. It was a titanic internal struggle.

And why such a big deal over this $5.95 bird? I mean, they’re delicious, what’s to decide? Well, I’m often alone in eating it, so there is the issue of waste. This is the rub. I don’t want to waste any. But so what if I don’t eat it all? So what if a little goes to waste?

And I realized at that grocery shopping impasse that it was a kind of microcosm of my life. Here I am in aisle nine at the grocery store, confronting my deep pathos. I frequently can’t decide what to do. I think it is related to how objective I am. I can see both sides quite clearly and see the benefits of things either way. This isn’t a good thing. I don’t think. Maybe it is.

I guess I can’t decide.