One of the ways that I often make decisions, or at least a way that I rule out certain courses of action, is to think about what the worst possible outcome of that course of action might be, and whether or not I am willing to live with it or risk that outcome.
For example, when I travelled to Bali, I weighed the risk of execution for being a drug trafficker against that of not having any weed for ten days or two weeks, and decided to risk it. Heck, I could make friends in the Bali jail, perhaps find some good work to do there. I didn't have to though, it worked out just fine.
On the other hand, back when I first got Bubba and was living alone in the trailer house, that’s what they call mobile homes in Oklahoma, no matter how wide or fitted with bling they might be, and there in the trailer house I did yoga every day, it was a period of unemployment, and I was really into the yoga, getting into shape, when I considered getting back into head standing, thinking yeah, I can head stand full lotus, no problem, I could full lotus, easily, I just needed to work on the head standing a bit, but then I thought about it.
The worst that could happen in that situation was that I’d fall, break my neck, be paralyzed but still alive, too far away from my neighbors to call for help, besides, my vocal cords would probably be paralyzed, too, and then Bubba would eventually be forced to eat me, alive, as I lay there helpless, watching, and my lucid brain would have to watch as my body rotted, at least until I died.
At least it wouldn’t hurt, not if I was paralyzed. But I figured that was just so horrifically heinous that I couldn't risk it, no way.
So I ruled out working too diligently on the headstand. Eventually I got to where I could do one again, probably still can, it wasn’t that long ago, and I've had humans with me most every time I've tried it, but given that my neck makes pops and noises these days just in walking around, I suspect that forcing it to support my body weight is likely not a very good idea, so I don't.
And Bubba couldn’t even eat me here, I mean, unless my vocal cords were paralyzed. My neighbors are so close that I can hear them just fine, and I assume that’s mutual. But I don't much care for the thought of a broken neck, not just for a head stand anyway.
Making the decision to move on out of Nashua and into a truly mobile home was easy. As much as I love it here, love the land, love Acer outside my window, the winters are long and my body is tired, the space too much for one. The worst that could happen is not bad at all, and in fact for me it feels right. Even as I've wandered out to test drive, it feels right.
But making decisions for Bubba, that guy who would eat me, for sure, that has got me pickled. The worst that could happen for him is just as bad and probably more real a possibility, that of lying there being eaten, aware. So no, he cannot be left to the predators, nor even left to feed himself, both possibilities for him on the road.
I cannot take him with me on the road; we learned this coming here.
So perhaps the kitty condo. I'll pretend I’m going away for a month, pay for his stay in a place where they feed twice a day and tend to the litter and offer up affection, or so they say, hope that they fall in love with him, he’s really a very nice guy. He doesn’t get such attentions from me, so he might learn to love other people. Perhaps a new love connection will be formed.
That’s the very best that could happen, that and selling the house.
Hopes for today, so simple.