You've been researching laptops for three weeks. Your browser has forty-seven tabs open, each comparing specs, reviews, and benchmarks. Yet somehow, you feel less confident about making a purchase than when you started with just two options. This frustrating experience reveals a fundamental challenge in how we approach knowledge and decision-making.

The assumption that more information always leads to better choices is deeply embedded in our culture. We celebrate data-driven decisions and exhaustive research. But mounting evidence from psychology and decision science suggests that beyond a certain point, additional information doesn't clarify our thinking—it clouds it. Understanding when and why this happens can transform how we navigate an increasingly complex world.

Research psychologists have identified a curious pattern: decision quality improves with information up to a point, then plateaus or even declines. In one landmark study, medical specialists given more patient data made worse diagnoses than those given just the essential facts. The additional information didn't add clarity—it introduced noise that obscured the signal.

This happens because our brains aren't designed to process unlimited variables simultaneously. Cognitive scientists estimate we can consciously juggle about seven pieces of information at once. Beyond this threshold, we start dropping important considerations or overweighting recent data simply because it's more memorable. The extra evidence doesn't make us more informed; it makes us selectively informed.

The problem intensifies when information conflicts or requires different types of evaluation. Comparing a laptop's processor speed against its battery life against its build quality requires making trade-offs between incomparable values. Each new specification adds another dimension to an already complex decision space. Instead of converging on a clear winner, the options become increasingly difficult to distinguish, leading to what researchers call choice overload.

Nobel laureate Herbert Simon introduced the concept of satisficing—a portmanteau of 'satisfy' and 'suffice'—to describe how successful decision-makers actually operate. Rather than seeking the absolute best option, satisficers set clear criteria for what's acceptable, then choose the first option that meets those standards. This approach sounds like settling, but research consistently shows it leads to better outcomes and greater satisfaction.

The key insight is that perfection is often an illusion in complex decisions. When buying a laptop, there's no objectively 'best' choice—only trade-offs between different priorities. Maximizers, who seek the optimal decision, spend enormous energy comparing marginal differences while satisficers invest that same energy in adapting to and optimizing their choice after the fact. The satisficer's 'good enough' laptop becomes excellent through use and customization.

Studies tracking consumer satisfaction reveal a paradox: people who spend more time researching purchases report lower satisfaction with their choices. They're haunted by the options they didn't choose and the information they might have missed. Satisficers, by contrast, make peace with uncertainty. They understand that no amount of research can eliminate risk or guarantee perfection, so they focus on making reasonable choices quickly and moving forward.

Different types of decisions require different evidence thresholds. Emergency room physicians make life-saving decisions with incomplete information because waiting for perfect clarity could be fatal. Investment analysts, conversely, can afford to gather extensive data before committing capital. The skill lies not in always seeking more evidence, but in calibrating your information needs to the decision's stakes and constraints.

A useful framework comes from statistical decision theory: consider both the cost of being wrong and the cost of delay. High-stakes, reversible decisions paradoxically need less information than we think—you can correct course if needed. Low-stakes, irreversible decisions deserve more scrutiny despite feeling less important. Most everyday choices fall into the first category, yet we treat them like the second, exhaustively researching trivial purchases while making major life decisions on gut feeling.

Establishing evidence thresholds requires recognizing the point where additional information becomes redundant. If three independent sources confirm the same conclusion, a fourth adds minimal value. If your last five searches haven't changed your top choices, you're likely recycling the same comparisons. The threshold isn't about reaching certainty—it's about reaching sufficient confidence to act. This means accepting that some questions will remain unanswered and some risks unmeasured.

The pursuit of perfect information is a modern trap disguised as due diligence. In a world of infinite data, the skill isn't gathering more evidence—it's knowing when you have enough. This requires accepting a fundamental truth: uncertainty is irreducible. No amount of research will eliminate all risk or reveal the objectively correct choice.

By understanding the paradox of choice, we can break free from analysis paralysis and make decisions that are both thoughtful and timely. The goal isn't to know everything possible, but to know enough to act wisely. Sometimes the best decision is simply the one that gets made, freeing us to learn from experience rather than drowning in hypothetical comparisons.