My house looks pretty good.
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- It was painted just before I bought it two years ago.
- It’s only 20 years old, so it still seems “new” to me.
- I put new floors in when I bought it.
- I stained and refinished all the cabinets and my furniture.
Still, it is full of imperfections.
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- There are nail pops showing on the walls throughout the interior of the house.
- My refinished cabinets look distressed. I did this on purpose because I cannot paint a perfectly neat, straight line.
- Two pieces of furniture have gnaw marks on them from Wiggles when she was teething.
- I have some small sections outside where I need to replace rotting wood trim and siding.
- There is a crack in the cement on my front porch and my lawn has bald patches and weeds mixed in with the grass.
I like it this way.
I don’t want anything I have to be perfect. It’s better to have a few dings, dents and imperfections. That feels real to me.
When something is brand new and perfect, I want to keep it that way. But I never can – nothing remains unchanged.
This is why, when the Orangemobile gets its first sign or scratch, I’ll breathe a sigh of relief. So far, it appears to be unscathed. But eventually, somebody will slam their door into mine in a parking lot, dent the bumper when they are backing up without paying attention, or sideswipe me as they are texting. Or I’ll scratch the bumper when loading it, ding the door on a pole or damage the interior loading in too much wood.
It’s bound to happen. When it does, I won’t fix it if it is a minor cosmetic issue. It will simply become part of my car’s character.
I too, am perfectly imperfect.
Although I am kind, friendly and intelligent, I am also cold, aloof and stubborn.
I might be super fit physically, stable emotionally and mentally hyper-focused, but I’m socially deficient and ambivalent about romance altogether.
I love my dogs. I spend hours walking them, caring for them, malign with them and petting them. Yet I yell at them to shut up at least a dozen times a day.
Nothing is ever really perfect.
Something might appear unblemished. But that usually means I am either not seeing the imperfections or that I am purposely ignoring them.
I’ve done this with jobs, relationships, self assessments, friendships, purchases and many other places in my life. It’s only through time and experience (and often in hindsight) that I can see there were imperfections in place from the very beginning.
Flawless is a fantasy.