Is it better to be good or lucky?

Back in the days of dark brown wood stain and harvest gold wall ovens, when I was young enough to be too short to reach the upper cupboards in the kitchen, I would climb up on the Formica counter in order to peer into the shelves that held the best goodies: Ho-Hos, Oreos, Cheerios, and other various "o" foods they made to entice children.

Normally, when I was done perusing the factory-made food choices, I would sit back on the counter and slide the smaller journey to reunite Zips with peel-and-stick linoleum; however, one day I forgot the routine.  I stood on the edge of the counter, having already set down a can of Spaghetti-Os, and wondered, "Do I sit and slide off, or do I jump?"  I couldn't remember.  Both seemed plausible.  Not wanting to delay and risk being caught on the counter again, the scales in my head tipped to "Jump!"  So I did.

I squatted slightly was in mid, irrevocable thrust when I realized this was the wrong choice.  While my brain knew I chose poorly, my muscles wouldn't get the new message in time and I found myself hovering in the air.