Saturday, February 9, 2013

The Worst of Kind of Perfectionist

I always identify myself as a perfectionist.  I'm not sure why.  I haven't actually behaved like a perfectionist for several years. I like to use this simple explanationWhen my husband had a stroke 2 years ago, I gave myself permission to let some things slide for a while.  "A while" quickly became 2 years, and now I'm a bona fide slob.

Sadly, the reality is more likely that I became a slob MANY years before the stroke.  My bizarre bilateral attitude is a mystery, even to me. I mean my ideal sense of cleanliness and order is: 

EVERYTHING has a neat, orderly, labeled place AND everything is put away in their neat, orderly, labeled places.  Easy enough, right?

And then: 

Surfaces dusted, windows cleaned.

Floors swept, mopped and vacuumed.

No food stuck on the countertops, walls, windows, doors, furniture.

No dust, no mud, no boogers, no snotty kleenex, no chewed up gum wads, no mysterious stains on the wall, no nail polish stains in the living room carpet, no giant gouges out of the drywall where the reclining couch digs into it, no cat scratches on the furniture, no dings or dents in the door frames, no broken latches on sliding doors.  And, is it too much to ask to have furniture that hasn't been around since my high school graduation???

Are you sensing the disparity between my fantasy life and reality?

The problem is that I want perfection.  However, I don't necessarily feel like working for perfection any more.  For example, if I had a dog with good hygiene habits, I would probably let him lick the dishes clean and I would be OK with that.  This means that I am not willing to ACT like a perfectionist...I simply want my home to be perfect.

Is that too much to ask? 

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