Perfection killed the cat

It's nearly nine p.m. on a weeknight.  My daughter suddenly thinks of a dozen things she'd like to clean up and organize before bed.  It exasperates me.  But the other evening as I was brushing my teeth at the same time as her I started tidying up the towels on the radiator (toothbrush still in mouth) and taking the dustpan to sweep up an annoying pile of something or another.

I decided to own up to the situation.  "You see," I told her, "I get crazy about stuff before bed time, too."  She laughed and made a game out of it, telling me to stop cleaning the bathroom.

Ah, doesn't that make you feel good?!

Just another way she and I are painfully alike: we are perfectionists.  We don't feel right when that picture frame is off.  We feel icky when the coffee table is cluttered.  And though I often have to let these things slide due to lack of time, there comes a moment when I can't stand it and start tidying up in spurts.  Only to get sidetracked again and abandon it for weeks.

But I wonder if this nervous energy does us perfectionists any good?  In fact, could it be dangerous?  Flashback to me bending over with a toothbrush in my mouth, one of my husband's biggest pet peeves.  I could have hurt myself, all because I was too eager to straighten things up.

It could even be deadly.  Recently France remembered the death of a famous singer who died 40 years ago when he straightened a light bulb while in his bathtub full of water.  Maybe it's proof that perfectionists can let that drive to orderly and clean bliss take over their logical thinking.  Maybe leaving well enough alone is healthier all around.

But like me browsing the Ikea catalog and feeling somehow calmed by those Zenly interiors or Modern Family's Claire Dunphy checking out "organization porn" (closets, to be clear!), an orderly home or office can lead to a peaceful state of mind.  Why else would people be so into decluttering their drawers and homes these days?

But with a husband whose job literally brings in potting soil into my house, a daughter who leaves stickers and McDonald's Happy Meal toys everywhere, and now a six-month old, I can kiss my dreams of that Zen home goodbye for at least ten years.

Perhaps that's a good thing because too much decluttering is cold.  And perfectionists live ten years less than non-perfectionists.  I just made that up to shock you.  Nobody is perfect, after all.

Life is about tests

(... in the style of a Meredith Grey voiceover*.)

Sometimes (pregnant pause), life is about tests.

There are the tests you know you are taking, that you can prepare for. These last two weeks I had quite a few of those. In statistics, micro and cell biology, and environmental management. They are tests in the literal sense of the word. They evoke cramming and late nights or early mornings and stress. And relief when they are finished. Afterwards you get a grade that makes you smile or wince and has some kind of effect on your future. Or not. Or not as much as you thought, when you look back years later.

Then there are tests we all take, students or not, every day. But they are trickier because in fact they aren't official and there's no one egging you on to do well. Except yourself, or your conscience. Like driving. Do I switch gears now, do I let that other driver in, do I proceed into the intersection now or a few seconds later? A multitude of small decisions that may seem small but could have major, lasting effects on our lives and those of others. Who's to say these "tests" aren't more important than the written ones that we make notecards for? They are, in fact, more important. But we don't always see it that way at the time.

And even more subtle but perhaps the trickiest of all are those moments when others test us- test our conscience or patience. Like when Juliette woke up way too early from her nap on an afternoon when I really needed to study for an official test. And I found myself getting irritated despite my efforts to smile and be sweet and cuddly to her while she rotated around my study corner. We are tested, we are pushed, and we must rise above our irritation and prioritize (child over homework). And sometimes we fail and we grumble and rumble and we regret it. And we hope we'll do better next time.

Maybe the real test in life is just that: deciding which tests are really important to pass and which ones we can forget about. And that's something you won't learn in any school book.

*As far as TV voiceovers go, Grey's Anatomy is not so bad. Slightly sappy but rather insightful. It comes in number two on my official voiceover ranking.

Desperate Housewives gets third place. I always feel like I'm having a children's book read to me. Enough already with the heavily emphasized "yes..." or "indeed" before every other statement. But sometimes trite stuff rings true.

But my all-time favorite voice-over sequence was from Glee when Wil and Coach Sue have a fight in their voiceover. TV genius!