I would have never guessed this about myself: I’m a closet perfectionist.
At least I’m that way with things I create. Dishes, laundry, my hair and such I have no problem living below the mark. But with writing, composing, my website, plants in my yard, or scrapbooking I tweak a little here, move something over there, sit back, lean in close, let it simmer, then tweak some more. Either I need to learn how to leave well enough alone or learn how to create a better first, second, third, or fourth draft. (Yes, sadly, I have gone far beyond the fourth draft to get a final version of Sadie I am happy with.) For now, I’m telling myself, “The website is ‘good enough. The scrapbook pages are good enough. The poor forsythia bush wants you to leave it be. It’s all good enough. There are dishes to be done.”
The drive to perfection may actually be on the road to insanity.
(Oh, and if you notice any mistakes, let me know.)