Sunday

I love Sundays. I like Saturdays too but Sundays have a special flavor to them as it feels like an official day of rest. I think I read somewhere that ... on the seventh day, They rested. Mom has memories of her own hard working mom resting on Sundays. I love a day that feels officially earmarked for kicking back, relaxing and enjoying whatever the day has to offer.

This particular Sunday is followed by a Saturday which was in my estimation ... perfection.

I enjoyed my leisurely morning and the phone rang just as I should have been picking myself off the kitchen chair and moving forward with the day.

A friend dropped by. After she left, I found a message from my son inviting me to join them for coffee and to walk the paths by the river. This led to an invitation to my other sons to come join us for supper.

I was home early enough to enjoy what was left of the evening. I could not have imagined a more perfect way to spend the day.

It was a day without a plan that worked out better than a perfectly choreographed agenda could have.

I love days that simply unfold without a map. Incoming or outgoing invitations slide perfectly into place, one thing leads to the next and it simply feels like everything is as it should be.

Today has started in a somewhat similar manner. I have had a few "hard things" to do. Washing my sheets and coloring my hair are behind me. All I have to do is hop in the shower, get dressed and let this day unfold without an agenda.

It is another day without a plan. I love Sunday!

Here Goes Nothing

I am sick to death of thinking, breathing and living through the minor house renovations around here as of late.

This house and all that has been done, needs to be done (and redone) and will never get done have permeated every thought I think and every breath I take.

So many of the "professional jobs" have left a trail of things-to-be-fixed in their wake. Today, our garage, playhouse and a basement windows will be replaced. Tonight, the interior of our newly cut "egress window" in a downstairs bedroom will be done.

All I can wonder is "How much more will have to be done &/or redone?" at the day's end. "Will they do the job I hope and expect them to do?" "How many unexpected expenses are going to crop up now?" "Why did I start all of this in the first place?"

The high cost of home ownership is heavy. I know I will not regret a penny spent on taking care of the four walls which shelter us from life's harsh weather.

But I do not like how these household renovations have dominated my thoughts and how it has shifted my focus to all of the inadequacies of the workmanship, the fact that things that were done became "undone" and that there is simply no end to this.

There is no end but at least I did what I could.

I have two used gallons of paint that are bought and paid for so I can continue painting for some time to come and it wouldn't cost a penny. Just time.

I fritter away an awful lot of my time. I really do.

I feel incapable of doing anything of substance after my daycare day is done. I don't want to spend my weekend "wasting" my one day off doing work around the house. Socializing takes an energy equivalent to working around the house so I seem to need to offset "social time" with "down time" to replenish my resources.

Yet when I actually focus on any one of the household tasks at hand, I am energized with more ambition than I had to begin with. The more I do, the more motivated I become. Then "real life" walks in the door and drains me of what I thought I had.

So I am walking into this day with a state of great ambivalence. I am eager to get this work done yet fearful that it will create more work that I don't want to make time for.

I think I just stumbled across the key to my discouragement. I don't want to make time for this house work. I just want to sit still in the state of it being done. Over. Complete.

If I have invested the time &/or money to get the job done, I don't want one more domino to fall. I just want the job done right. From start to finish. The end.

I want the job my dad would have done...

Yes Mom, I understand what you are saying when you said no one can hold a candle to the way Dad worked. No one.

He was but one man, but he was the one man who could do a job from start to finish and finish the job at hand.

Stuck in Perfection Mode

"This" is why I do nothing. Because when I do decide to do "something", I have expectations. I don't think I expect perfection but maybe I do.

I hired a painter to paint the bathroom for me because there were some really big patch jobs to be done and I knew I didn't have the skill level to do them right. So I hired an "expert".

Okay, maybe he isn't an expert. Maybe he is a jack of all trades, self taught and a learn-as-he-goes kind of guy. His motto seemed to be "I do the job I would do for myself. If it is not good enough for me, it isn't good enough for my client."

Perhaps I should have toured his home first to see if our acceptance levels are compatible.

Well? I should have surmised our perfection levels were askew when I showed him various things around the house that I was wanting to repair or replace (after I found out he dabbles in a little bit of everything):

• a crooked screen door that doesn't close properly and where you can see a ray of light from outside, at the top of the door - his response? "Well, screen doors do that."
• exterior doors that don't feel "secure" to me because the deadbolt doesn't latch/click completely when closed? "That doesn't matter, in fact it's even better because it is less likely to break if it doesn't 'click' closed."
• a broken piece of plastic that (I thought) was the only thing that is keeping one entire pane of glass in the screen door (he explained later, that there is a bead of silicone most likely holding it in place) "It still looks okay, I wouldn't worry about it." I'm not concerned about the appearance! I simply want that long, skinny pane of glass to stay where it belongs.

If he didn't profess to be close to perfect, I wouldn't have expected so much. But every step along the way, he told me how he was better than the last painters who were here. He showed me his tricks and although I didn't really see what he was talking about, I nodded and smiled.

The job is "technically" complete (pending my approval). The patch jobs are really, really bad. I am not good but I think I could have done just as well as he did. I'm pretty sure of it. That is why I quit painting.

I haven't paid him a penny. He brought the imperfections to my attention (or did he just respond to my staring at the glaring imperfection of it all?). He said he will redo it today if I want him to.

When I asked him what he would do if it was his house, he pointed out the stipple missing from the ceiling (he said he didn't include ceilings) and the paint chips on the painted tiles behind the sink and said, "Since there are already so many things that are wrong here and this is just a quick patch up job, I'd probably just leave it."

Not impressed.

So I will nicely ask him to do his best to fix up the patches and while he is at it maybe he could touch up the places where his paintbrush missed when he was cutting in along the vanity. 

He has installed a new light and will install new taps and towel racks. He said he would do some minor fix-ups on my existing doors. 

If he still has time on his clock, I will ask if he could sand down the bathroom vanity cupboards for me. I was going to get him to paint the cupboards for me but I am very pleased he completed one job before tackling the next. Our "fussy meters" are not in sync.

I am not good. But I can do just as good of a job. And my hourly rate is a lot cheaper.

So much for the idea of finishing that book I started reading sometime around Christmas time, during my holiday. I recently reread what I read in January to refresh my memory. I may have to reread the first half of the book one more time before I manage to sit still with it.

This nasty quest for "perfection" or simply "better than I could do myself" is cutting into my holiday time.

"As bad as I am and as good as you are, I am as good as you are as bad as I am." ~ Mom

Maybe that quote doesn't apply to electrical, plumbing, jobs that require muscle, precision and skill. But I think my painting is "good enough". Now that is something I didn't want to learn today!

Dad was pretty close to "perfect" when it came to home maintenance. I remember well, the way he handled those "patch jobs" while painting. I have no idea how he did it. It took time and many, many (many) repeat steps of patch/sand/paint; patch/sand/paint but when he was done, the job was done right. 

I don't know who has that same code of perfection these days. Perhaps "perfect" is not worth it. "Done" and "good enough" are the goal. Right? 

I suppose. Just not when you are paying someone by the hour.