Man about the House  ©Richard G. Mills 1993-1996  All rights reserved.
From the series
by Richard G. Mills




Love Letters in the Sand

          My mother used to enter my room from time to time and write with her finger "Dust me" on the top of my dresser or my desk or the shelves that held my ceramic dog collection -- or all of them.  Not to say that I didn't clean my room or wasn't a good housekeeper, but I didn't clean my room and I wasn't a good house keeper.  However, I was a young boy, and young boys aren't supposed to clean their rooms or keep their houses.
          But when I was a child, I cleaned like a child; now that I am a man, I clean like a child.  Well, at least, I used to blame my poor housekeeping upon my general immaturity.  But then I learned about perfectionistism.  One of the key concepts "they" apparently teach counselors (beyond one's problems coming from one's parents and the likelihood that anyone with a problem was probably molested as a child and in repression) is the concept of being a perfectionist.
          Being a perfectionist involves two self-defeating aspects: (1) you can't be happy unless everything's perfect, and (2) if it can't be done perfect (predicate adjective), it's better not to do it at all!  Now, anyone (anyone other than a perfectionist, that is) can see the major defect in the first aspect.  When was the last time you can remember when everything was perfect?  Come on, now.  There's always something wrong!
          I mean, if children aren't starving in Africa, the picture is hung crooked in the living room.  And that one section of wall paper doesn't quite reach the ceiling.  And your boss doesn't really appreciate you.  And if your boss does appreciate you, then that's a lot of pressure to be put under -- always having to perform up to the expectations of your appreciative boss!  And the grass needs mowing; and, if you just mowed it, it probably needs trimming; and, if you just trimmed it, it probably needs mowing again....  or something.  And if you actually get the picture straight in the living room, well, there have to be children starving somewhere -- just ask Sally Struthers.  So you aren't happy because you're a perfectionist.  And so that's good, right?  --Being perfect?  Wanting to be perfect?  Wanting everything perfect?
          "But didn't you start out talking about cleaning house?" you ask.  To which, I reply, "Yes."  And that's the second (thank you for the segue!) aspect, "if it can't be done perfect (predicate adjective, again), it's better not to do it at all!"  To the well adjusted individual, it reads, "If it's worth doing at all, it's worth doing right."  But to the perfectionist, that's the same as saying, if it can't be done right, it isn't worth doing.
          "But didn't you start out talking about cleaning house?" you ask.  To which, I reply, "Yes."  And that's just the point.  If the cleaning can't be done right, a perfectionist would feel, it would be better (that is, less frustrating) not to do it at all.  And so, when co-workers or friends tell me that I'm so persnickety about what I do or how I look they can't believe I could be as poor a housekeeper as they have heard me claim to be or seen for themselves, they've totally missed the point.  I want the page perfectly typed and perfectly spaced, I don't want to be seen scuzzy in public, and I don't clean house, all because I am a perfectionist.
          When I lived in the City and was making a little (very little) money, I tried using a maid service from time to time.  I'm not at all like the stereotype TV housewife who spends two days before the new maid gets there cleaning house so the maid won't think they're slobs.  If I'm paying for a minimum of four hours' work, I expect a minimum of four hours' work!
          Of course, the cleaning person certainly didn't do anything perfectly.  Unlike the housewife who spent two days cleaning beforehand, I spent two days "cleaning" afterwards: fixing the things the cleaning person had missed!  But using a cleaning service did save some time.  -- All the basic things got done, and all that was left was the perfectionist stuff!  And at least the basics got done; and it was o.k., because it wasn't me (or rather, I) who didn't do it perfect!
          But trying to do the whole job myself, well....  When you've dusted all the bookcase shelves and table tops, there's always a big speck of lint left somewhere -- and usually a little dust as well, at least there will be by tomorrow.  So it can't be done perfect; that is, to perfection.  So why do it at all?
          And windows!  I've just about given up on windows.  It's nigh unto impossible to get both sides of a pane of glass clean without leaving a streak somewhere.  I'm sure the average nonperfectionist could clean the windows of an entire Chicago glass highrise before I could get both sides of my patio door done.
          But I don't have to feel guilty about it anymore.  I am not a slob.  I am a perfectionist.  And, if tables get a little dusty, well, I just take my finger and write...
"Dust Me!" (Heart)
                                                                          ...in the dust.  And, eventually, when I have the time for perfection (or when family or friends are expected the next day or in five minutes), I will.
 Next
(" Those Autumn Leaves... Vrroommm-vrroommm! ")

 Choose another

Click here  to order column for your publication!

 Go to writing--business/news/professions resume page

 Go/return to overall Table of Contents