I am not an overachiever. I never have been, never will be. I'm not patient. I hate taking my time. I'm the worst kind of procrastinator because I wait until the very last minute, but when I finally get around to doing something I want results and I want them NOW. Some might call me lazy, but I prefer to think of myself as efficient.
This particular quirk of mine usually has mixed results. Back in 8th Grade I was supposed to be working on my project for the science fair for an entire semester. My hypothesis involved the impact of acid rain on plants. Much to my father's immense disappointment I ended up doing the entire project one week before the actual science fair. This may or may not have involved me using a safety pin to prick tiny little holes in plant leaves that I had recently purchased from the grocery store. My science teacher must have smelled the stench of bullshit from about a mile away because he gave me a C+. Lucky for me the state judges were quite impressed with my presentation skills and I got an honorable mention from the State of Ohio.
Suck on that Mr. Oster.
Fast forward 20 years and I'm still an instant gratification kind of gal. Lately I've been driving my father insane with my little DIY projects. The thing is, Mike Roecker is Handy (note the capital H). He knows how to hang dry wall, install bathrooms and fix broken furnaces. Unfortunately, doing something with Mike Roecker means no shortcuts. Everything must be done exactly the right way. If you're installing a new light fixture and a wire gets twisted, you will untwist that wire and reinstall the entire fixture and get it right even if that means you can't feel your hands at the end of the project. That's just how Mike Roecker rolls.
So, you can imagine the look on my dad's face when he got wind of the fact that I was planning on framing my bathroom mirror with crown molding. He started throwing around words like "mitre saw" and "math" and I just nodded along like I was in complete agreement with his super complex plan that involved tape measures and special saws and a lot of work. And then I went home and slapped up that crown molding using some glue I bought at Lowes. No mitre saws or fractions necessary. A little glue, some hammering and voila - an upgraded mirror.
It's definitely not perfect. I'm sure it would look way better if my dad helped. But it's done. And there's something to be said for done. Sometimes I think we procrastinate on stuff because we're trying so hard to be perfect, to do it right. How many of you are sitting on half finished manuscripts because you just couldn't find the perfect word to end chapter 5?
Today I'm here to tell you that sometimes it's ok to half ass it. After all, you can't publish 5 perfect chapters and that crown molding isn't going to hang itself. Even with a mitre saw.
Dad, If you're reading this, I take full responsibility for all those wrinkles in your forehead. Also, please don't ever go in my upstairs bathroom. I think my un-mitred mirror would probably give you an anxiety attack. However, there's a distinct possibility that I'm going to wake up in the morning to find 4 pieces of molding littering my bathroom floor, so, um, just pencil in dinner at my house Tuesday night. And plan on bringing your mitre saw. You know, just to be safe. Love you.