There are many handicaps in life. I am handicapped in several ways, none of which are life threatening or impair me physically. My handicap is not going to be any good when I swing a golf club. My handicap deals with decorating my home. I can go to the paint department and feel my blood pressure and pulse rise. Not from excitement but from shear terror. I am the poster woman for those who are afflicted with this disturbing non-disease. I am unable to make a decision and this affliction makes it that much more difficult to decide on drapes, wait no drapes, just shears, or blinds. What style rug? Should I get rid of my antiques and go for a new look. What styles define me and my family? Hell if I know. I am in awe of women who have the sixth sense of design and can put it in their home and make it inviting to the point you can't get your guests to leave. I'm not going for that look. Maybe subliminally my look is screaming to my sons "don't come back after college." Hmm... I might be on to something then.