Perfection

You know that perfection often exceeds our capabilities. We may strive for it, but we'll invariably slip just a little bit. I'm told that the aim of a marksman will jiggle a little with each heartbeat. The olympic competitors learn to slow the heart and time the shot in between beats.

I found myself with a bit of woodworking that needed doing. Keeping the saw blade on the line is nontrivial. The longer the cut the more likely you'll grow a little tired or your hand will shake a bit.

You have to tolerate small errors that detract from perfection.

Or know how to hide them: If you look at the woodwork in your house, you'll see the boards do not line up perfectly. They are offset by about a 16th of an inch. The eye will see every tiny discrepancy, but the offset will hide smaller variations.

I had a task which had me flummoxed. I had a piece of plywood that needed to be cut with a four-inch radius on two corners and a couple uber straight runs of several feet. I have a circular saw and a saber saw, but I lacked confidence in my skills.

So, I went to my neighbor who is an expert woodworker. While I looked on and helped him, he cut the plywood. And he did a great job. But it wasn't perfect.

This showed me something: He used the same tools I had and it wasn't perfect. It was more than good enough. That 64nd of an inch where he drifted from the line is nicely hidden by a bit of trim.

I learned that I'll tolerate errors when someone else does the work, that I won't tolerate when I do it myself. The standard of "perfection" is higher when I do something myself.

It is lower when I ask a favor from a friend.

And when I hire work from an expert, he's must know the craft well enough to hide the inevitable imperfections.

Benefits of Marriage

Beauty and the Beast is a metaphor of marriage.

Somehow the walk down the aisle and the love of a good woman changes a guy from someone who stores motorcycle parts around the Living Room floor into a responsible adult.

However, this effect has an impact on a man's ability to independently cope with life.

I saw this when my wife went to work at a part-time job. She was doing news at a local radio station. Not every day, but on weekends I'd be left to forage on my own.

When your sweetie works radio news, she's called upon to talk on the air at the top and the bottom of the hour. When she's talking on the air, she can't talk to you. And before those times, she's worried about doing her job, not yacking with someone back home.

I can't find my favorite cereal.

I should check the time, but I pick up the phone without looking until after dialing. Oops, it's minutes before the hour.

Not good.

I walk to the pantry with the cordless phone cradled in my neck when she answers.

"Do you know where the cereal is?"

She answers with a bit of irritation on the edge of her voice that she doesn't know. I should ring off ASAP so she can do her job.

I yank open the pantry door.

This door was cut to accommodate a carpet we replaced with linoleum, putting the bottom edge at the perfect height. As the door opens, it comes up over my big toe and catches on my toenail.

The nail peels back.

My power of description fail to give the exquisite pain fair representation.

I slam the door closed and hop on the one good foot.

The action unbalances me. I fall backwards. The phone goes flying. I land in the plastic wastebasket. The door bounces open again.

A bag of empty pop cans stacked atop not-yet-recycled newspapers tumbles out of the pantry. The pop cans land all over me.

My toe hurts too much to do anything but laugh.

I fish the phone out of the trash strewn across the kitchen floor and my long-suffering spouse is still on the line.

My toe is throbbing. I try to explain what happened.

My wife is neither amused nor sympathetic in the last moments before she has to go on the air.
She mumbles something like "that's nice" and rings off.

Every day, single males are capable of doing all sorts of stupid, dangerous and painful things without any help.

But it takes a wife to remind you that all this happened on your fortieth birthday.