Writers are never satisfied with what we write. We strain to find the le mot juste, the perfect right word for the perfect right spot. We write and rewrite, edit and re-edit, until we reach a point when we have to stop fussing and let someone else read our pearls of wisdom. Or not, if they don’t like what we send out.
Life is like being a writer. Sometimes good is good enough. Sometime good isn’t enough and only perfection will do. Let’s look at housekeeping for a good example.
My house used to be fantastically clean when I worked. When I retired, I realized I didn’t want to be Martha Stewart and redecorate table tops for each season or power wash my decorative baskets fall and spring to remove dust. Don’t get me wrong. My house is clean, well, except for under one bed where I decided to name the…
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