Nothing's Perfect

I've just finished putting in windows on our porch.  It was a rather pricey thing to do, but we faced a pretty interesting decision:  put in new windows and be able to actually use the porch, or leave in the (very) old windows and have a porch that was very uninviting and that heated up far too much in the summer for us even to consider spending time out there.  We decided to spend the money, and we now have a three-season porch that we actually like to spend time on.

But the decision to spend the money is only a small part of the process of putting in new windows.  Because we're not wealthy, a job like this falls to me to do, so I end up pulling out the old windows, frames, sills, and all, and putting in the new windows and then framing them.  That's where the time-consuming part comes in, and that's where I have to make decisions as to just how perfect things need to be, as people will be looking at this part of the work more than anything else.

And there's a part of me that wants everything to be perfect, that wants every cut to be precise, every fitting almost unnoticeable.  Part of that, I'm sure, is the fear of being judged by others when they see something I've done that isn't perfect, and that's not a motivating factor that I want to be dominant in my life.  If I want to do something perfectly, then I want to do so simply for the satisfaction of having done so, not to please others.  Besides, if I want perfect, then I need to buy many more expensive tools than those I have, things like a table saw with which I can make precise cuts and fit every board absolutely perfectly.  I really don't want to spend that much money, though.

So I'm pretty satisfied with a very good job rather than a perfect job.  The windows look nice, and so does the framing.  If a professional were to come in and look for so-called flaws, they probably would find quite a few.  But the fact is that the windows are in securely, the framing around them looks very nice, and their installation has improved the porch immensely, turning it into a place where we can spend a lot of time this summer, whereas before, with the old windows, it wasn't a very pleasant place at all.  We now have an attractive three-season porch where we're going to pass many pleasant hours, reading and listening to the many birds in our neighborhood as they sing each morning.

I do know people, though, who would look only at the flaws, who would look only at what they think should have been done better, places where boards should have matched up better or where there shouldn't be quite so much of a gap.  To me, those things are completely unimportant, and I'm happy to have a useful porch now.  I think it would be difficult to go through life always focusing on flaws, always trying to find things wrong with other people's work.  I grew up always looking for flaws in my own work, so now that I'm able to relax and enjoy a nice porch even with its imperfections, life is quite a bit more pleasant.

I hope that I'm always able to be satisfied with a very good job.  Nothing needs to be absolutely perfect.  I don't use this attitude to justify shoddy work that results in inferior results, but I do want to be happy with very good work that makes the most of limited resources and produces a very good job.  The best that we can do is just that--the best that we can do, and we should be happy with that, and not have unrealistic expectations of perfection that are almost always unjustified.