Sign o' the times

We all tend to believe that in the good old days, when friends were in an address book, not on Facebook, when computers were large plastic boxes on a desk, not cute little gizmos in our pockets, things were easier. We went to school, maybe university, got a job, got married, had kids, a house, a car, a holiday once a year. We were friendly with our neighbours, children played on the street, people aged gracefully and dressed accordingly. Ah, the good old days. No time for ennui. No time for navel gazing. No time for organic lacto-free cheese.
Whether you believe this pile of clichés is entirely your business. But one thing is fairly easy to agree upon. Not much is easy these days. Oh no. It is pretty damn complicated. Should I? Do I? Want I? The sheer amount of choice is paralysing.
Look around. How many options are available? Job-wise, love-wise, friendship-wise. And are these getting in the way of commitment? Of the ability to decide where we stand? Sometimes I cannot even pick the selection of fruit and nut for my weekly delivery of snacks! Actually, the little boxes that bring joy to the office on Monday mornings have just given me an idea. Because, you see, inside the cardboard box there are four sealed plastic trays, with four different mixes of healthy crunches. Boxes within the box. So, can we separate all the different compartments of our lives, box them up in a tiny container and open them only when appropriate? Can we split our day in four equal parts and move from one section to the other every six hours? Is life a stationary department or a minestrone? And what if your brain works in parallel and not in series? What if logical progression defies you every single time? What if romantic thoughts get hold of you while you are supposed to be a cold business person? What if you need to write a work email while cooking dinner?

One thing is worrying me these days. What if the relentless optimism is abandoning me? What if my feet are glued to the asphalt? What if the tiny boxes stay sealed all day long and I just stare at them from a distance? Would it be a very sad day, or a very healthy one?... Naaaaa, it will never happen. I am still the same EI, just a bit less dramatic about it.
PS
Beer does not go in the fridge if it is real ale