Leaving Well Enough Alone

I’m one of those people who can’t leave well enough alone. In fact, until just now, writing “well enough,” I didn’t even understand what those words mean. Well, yes, of course I knew what they mean, but it’s such a common phrase that I’ve never actually stopped to contemplate the meaning in that particular construct.

“Well enough” is good enough for most projects, though I never aim for such a low expectation. Although I tend to aim for perfection, I am willing to settle for something a bit less. The problems come in deciding what that “less” is. If something offends my sense of balance or perspective, for example, I keep trying to even things out until . . . oops. I go too far in the other direction and have to scrap the whole project. For the most part, I’ve learned to do one attempt at fixing whatever it is that bothers me, and then let it go.

But I couldn’t let my bench project go (the design seemed wrong, somehow), and I didn’t want to ruin the bench, so I photoshopped the photo I posted of the bench to see if a fuller border would work. Then I printed the photo, and played around with different designs for the center, so that when I painted, I wasn’t winging it as I so often do.

I think it turned out well.

At least that inner critic is silent and if it ever raises its voice to me, I’ll ignore it. The silly thing is, that often what offends disappears into the background, and I never even notice it. For example, when I stuccoed over the dog door in the corner of the house, I thought I did a terrible job. So I stuccoed over the stucco patch and made matters worse. I did leave it alone (though sometimes I wonder if I should try again), and I hardly ever notice the patch. It’s just . . . there.

Well, soon the bench will be “just there” too, and it won’t matter that I spent so much time on redoing the design. It I’ll probably never actually see it again except in periphery. Or in case I purposely look at it.

Still, I’m glad that in this case I didn’t leave well enough alone. At least, I think I am.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Housewifery

People keep asking me if I’m writing, but . . . no, not to the extent that I’m actually putting words on paper (or what passes for paper in the computer world). I am still thinking of my next book, however, mentally putting together bits and pieces of my new life as a housewife (houseowner, actually, but it sometimes feels as if this house is a significant other, as if we’re married to death do us part).

I do have a victim for this potential book — someone I would like removed from my life: a fellow who plays his music way too loud too often, with the bass turned up (turned down?) so that it vibrates my windows and my brain pan, and can be heard for blocks away. (Someone said he’s letting his customers know his drug “store” is open.) Considering that he’s also been rumored to sell tools he’s stolen from a mutual neighbor, there would be a whole list of possible villains. (Though is it villainy if the doer gets rid of a neighborhood problem? Isn’t it more like pest control?)

But this vague musing is the only writing activity I’ve been doing. Mostly, I’m doing house things such as stuccoing over a doggie door, framing and painting a new door, and setting up solar lights. Ah, the things one does when it comes to the caring and feeding of one’s house!

The yard still holds a surprise or two. I woke the other morning to this little glory. It’s amazing anything can survive this heat, but some plants seem to like the area. Now I just have to find more things that can take care of themselves.

As for taking care of myself — I have days where I take care of myself and days when I don’t, but I am trying not to let the heat make me too much of a hermit. Yesterday I went with a couple of friends to see the Koshare Dancers — a pretty amazing troupe of dancers that tries to live up to the spirit of the native dances. And other excursions are in the planning stage. Oddly, considering that for years I spent hours every day roaming the desert, I seldom walk just to walk any more. Maybe when the house projects are coming to end, maybe when it cools off, I’ll be more likely to hoof it for the sake of hoofing it, but now, I merely walk for transportation — such as going to the library, to an occasional exercise class. Or to the hardware store. I’ve never before been on a first name basis with hardware store workers!

Such an adventure, this owning a house.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.