Carrie Link

PERFECT IS AS PERFECT DOES

I've been accused, on more than one occasion I'm afraid, of being a perfectionist. Let me make one thing perfectly clear, I am not. I am Queen Half-Ass. Perfectionists don't have the problems I have with impulse control. They will tweak, tweak, tweak until things are perfect. They are often behind schedule because things weren't quite perfect enough to get them out the door on time. Great ideas are never finished, at times, not even begun, because the level of attention they feel the idea requires, is too much to even commence.

This is not my problem. I run off half-cocked most times. I accomplish a great amount of tasks, none of which are even close to perfect, some of which are just plain shoddy. Allow me to illustrate: Sick and tired of looking at the packages of flower seeds on my kitchen counter, I opened them simultaneously today, dumped them all in my palm, stirred them with my finger, and flung them around the approximate destination of our flower-garden-to-be. 1/16 of an inch was all they required to be under the soil. "Aha," I thought "a quick splash with the hose ought to drive those puppies in at least 1/16 of an inch." Done! 2006 flowers planted in under 2 minutes! Check, check!

I've been known to select a special occasion dress while shopping at Target for toilet paper, skip the dressing room, only trying on the dress for the first time moments before the big event. Perfection? I think not.

I once decided to recover the seats of my dining room chairs, drove to the fabric store, grabbed the first remnant I saw, and had those seats recovered before I'd even taken off my coat.

This brings me to my point. If you want something done, I'm your gal. If you want it done perfectly, well...