Today, I set out to do one of the things that gives me a great deal of satisfaction—taking care of life’s day-to-day tasks. In the old days, fun had to be a wild, drunken adventure. Nowadays, I find enjoyment in simple everyday jobs that feature a quiet sort of fun and a sense of accomplishment.
The project that I needed to complete consisted of putting in a mailbox post and attaching a mailbox.
I put in the post. I even sharpened a dowel to attach to the lower part of the post so it would be sturdier in the ground. So far so good. I was feeling good and doing well.
Next came the painting of the numbers and letters on the box. For this, I had stencils and spray paint. I carefully taped the stencils on the box, trying to make sure the letters were straight and evenly spaced. After spraying, I allowed the paint to dry a little and then removed the tape and stencils.
But I wasn’t happy with the work. Some of the lettering wasn’t exactly evenly spaced and I noticed a slight overspray in places. The paint had run here and there where I applied the spray too heavily. I felt the old stab of dissatisfaction I had felt many times. The job hadn’t come out perfectly.
I’m well aware that one of my defects of character is perfectionism. My past is riddled with the unsatisfactoriness that everything-has-to-be-exactly-rightism produces. I have quit schools and jobs because things just weren’t right, or I wasn’t doing as well—in my mind at least—as I wanted. And, at times, it seemed that the only way to definitively stop the feelings of dissatisfaction was to get away from the situation by leaving schools and quitting jobs. But as they say, wherever you go there you are, and perfectionism has always dogged me.
I looked at the letters and numbers on the box. They had come out OK, just not perfectly. Right then my AA program kicked in. I asked myself, How perfect does this need to be? In other words, how important is it really? The purpose of the lettering on the mailbox is to identify the box so the carrier will know where to deliver the mail. And that I did. So in that sense, it was 100% successful.
In addition, I thought about the other mailboxes on the street. How perfect are they? I looked around. They aren’t. A few are leaning this way and that. There’s even one that has lettering painted on it with a brush so it looks like a child did the work. In other words, my box isn’t perfect but neither is any other box on the street.
I also had to practice my attitude of “live and let live.” “Oh well,” I said, “such is life.” And when I finish getting the mailbox up, I will work on not looking at the lettering when I get the mail. If I don’t obsess about it not being perfect, eventually my mind will let it go. In the end, I decided that if the imperfect job I did still bothers me, in a year I can paint it over and redo it.
The beautiful thing about where I am now is that I’m more patient with myself. I know it isn’t necessary to hold myself in contempt for having shortcomings. Everyone has defects of character. If I beat myself up over them, I will cause a depression that can be debilitating. But I have the Steps to help me.
So if you happen to drive up my street and notice my imperfect mailbox, try not to judge. I’m applying the program and doing the best I can.