paper or plastic

The thing is I just don't know. I might not even care. I mean, sure. ok, I care. I care. Plastic bags are nice to have around when you have a dog and need, to umm, clean up his business on daily walks, or want to carry something wet or apt to be wet. On the other hand, paper bags are useful on recycling days and some say they are better for the environment. It's nice to have a good mix on hand to accomodate a variety of needs. And, you know, sometimes I remember my own sack. No bag at all on those days.
But really, mostly, I just don't know. or care. Or both. Who knows. Who cares.
Frankly, these decisions, these little details, these pop quizzes of life that appear constantly can be more frustrating than I'd like to admit.
And I'm frozen and I don't know what to say. fuck. fuck. fuck. I don't care if it's paper or plastic. I don't care if you run that card as an ATM or a credit card. I don't care if my change is in large or small bills. Hell, keep the change, put it in your tip basket. I really don't care, and I don't even want to know if you can manage that. Here. I'll close my eyes and hand you the card and you do what you think best.
See, right now I'm trying to decide if I should move or get a roommate. I'm trying to decide what I'm going to do for a living. I'm trying to decide if I should put a crap load of money down on a parking spot or yearly bus pass. I'm trying to disseminate years of personal information into the decision making process that has become my personal life. Nothing is obvious and many things feel paramount. I've got financial decisions and family planning decisions and I have to decide what I'm having for dinner.
So, sometimes, just sometimes, I choose to embrace complete apathy. I don't care and I can't be bothered to pretend I do. But I guess I have to answer your question because it's rude to ignore someone directly addressing you.
So yeah, go for it. Paper, man. And double bag it or I'll be pissed.