Each day, the average person makes hundreds of decisions, many of them without even really thinking. We decide what to wear, what to eat, how to walk, when to take a bathroom break, when to clear our throats, what to say, how to say it, and any number of other seemingly trivial matters. But what about the more far-reaching choices in our lives? Where to go to college, what to major in, whether to go to Grad School, where to work, how to live. Oftentimes we get stuck and choose not to choose or decide to suspend our decision-making process until we have more information. We pick, say, three majors instead of one, live in limbo for a while hoping things will “figure themselves out,” or “keep our options open” instead of eliminating a potential path. But are all these decision delay tactics just different ways of avoiding commitment? Are we all just too scared to commit? Throughout our lives, we are encouraged to be open-minded, to look before we leap, and to think ahead. But how much evaluating can we realistically do before we move from evaluation to avoidance? Is there such a thing as over-thinking? In our society, the days go by so fast that we schedule ourselves by the minute. We sit in traffic jams on our cell phones because we can’t afford to “lose” the time spent in the car on the way to and from work. By the time we get home, we have to make dinner, feed the cat, do homework, wash laundry, or take care of the myriad other domestic tasks that lie in wait to assault us the second we walk in the door. If we think too much, we might miss a phone call or, god forbid, a class. But if we think too little, can we make a competent decision? How do we find a balance in which we can make good choices? And once we somehow manage, against the odds, to decide anything, how can we ever know if we’ve chosen the best of all possible paths? If we think too much, we are unable to even get out of bed, make coffee, take a shower, and pick an outfit. But if we think too little, we’re considered rash and impulsive. Somewhere in there, there must be a middle ground, doesn’t there? If only we had the time to find it. . .