I just bought a pair of running shoes.

Don’t let the suddenness of that statement genie-lamp you the illusion that this was some impulse buy. I actually took the time to decide whether I should opt for a rubber outsole heel or a cushioning system that would remember the shape of my feet (and remind me, constantly, that I’m flat-footed). They looked so sleek and nice – I thought they would make my life faster, productive and more efficient. And so I clicked.

The thing is, I don’t run. I don’t even jog or do one of those brisk walks. If I were in the middle of the Serengeti and an angry, undiplomatic elephant was bearing down on me with no intent of negotiating, I wouldn’t run – for me, that would be more embarrassing than being splattered like an overripe fruit in front of a group of white-socked tourists.

Which leaves me with one pair of running shoes that I don’t need. Their sole purpose (pun unintended) will be to make my wardrobe look more crowded.

Running shoes aren’t the only irrelevance in my life. Walking into my kitchen is like entering a sadhu’s box-room. Row upon row of teas, from mint and ginger to jasmine and blueberry infusions, from loose leaf to square, round and triangle bags. There is tea from every corner of the world, from South Africa and China to Sri Lanka and Vietnam. And I hate tea.

I have lived the early 1980s when choice was limited to chocolate with or without nuts. Cars were either square or round. Televisions were black and white – no choice there. Actually, there was a choice: you either had a television set or you didn’t.

Nowadays, even my cats have endless choices to make. Gone are the days when they purred to either dry or wet food. Now they have souffle, grain-free and gluten-free. At the last count they had nine varieties, one for every life. And I’m not even counting the flavours.

But is choice such a bad thing? Yes and no (see, even here you have a choice). Yes because choice comes at a cost. No because there’s a sort of democratic pleasure in being able to choose between Colombian and Ethiopian coffee.

But back to my running shoes. It’s not about choice, really. What led me into temptation was temptation itself. Visit a sport-related website and a firework display of adverts for sports apparel goes off. Look for a quick recipe and you’ll be shown the benefits of owning the perfect equipment for molecular gastronomy. Help out your children in a school project by searching for the capital of Mozambique and, five seconds later, you’re telling the rest of the family to pack their bags because you have a long-haul flight to Maputo to catch.

For whatever you need, there’s online shopping. For anything else that you don’t need, there’s that shopping window in the shape of a computer monitor.

techeditor@timesofmalta.com