I had to go out this morning, it was raining. This image popped into my mind's eye:
Ah. Which blue jacket to wear?
Then: What the hell is happening to me?! How could I seriously be considering that I needed to choose which jacket to wear? And why have I got three? (See note 1. )
At 15 in Biggleswade, Beds, UK, I'd not have hesitated, I'd wear no jacket or whatever came to hand. At 20, at Bath University, I was so arrogant and deluded that I thought girls would see my scruffiness as an attractive recklessness. So it did not matter what I was wore. (I was wrong of course)
Now, a little older, in Milano Italy, before going out, I was actually taking time to consider which jacket to put on. Involuntarily.
So what with the proof of the existence of god and the trilemma of the blue jackets I don't seem to be in control of my thoughts.
Note 1. I have three jackets by because I've surrendered control of my wardrobe entirely to my wife.