Sometimes, done is good enough
Leada Gore, Editor
When left to my own devices, I can usually figure out most things. I may end up doing things not-quite-right, but at least they get done.
For example, there was the time years ago I decided to paint my bedroom. I had no idea about paint or brushes or taping anything but thought it looked pretty easy.
I quickly learned painting was much harder than it looked on television. The paint was dark green and it was going over beige walls with white trim and it seemed as if every improperly painted area shone brightly. I quickly decided not to paint the entire bedroom, opting instead for painting one wall.
"An accent wall," it was called.
I made it through the bedroom painting but the carpet and trim didn't do as well. I covered the large green spot on the carpet with my bed and tried to cover the white trim with the only thing I had on hand – white typing correction fluid. (Not a bad idea, by the way).
I left the large green spot I had managed to get on the ceiling, figuring anyone who would comment on it was just rude.
Last weekend, the task before me was putting up our small Christmas tree in the living room. This isn't the main family tree; it's a small one that I get to put the nice decorations on each year. It's not pre-lit, which means not only did I have to put it together, I actually had to get the lights on it, too.
Greg was out of town. I was on my own.
I got the tree out of the box and the directions said the branches were labeled. Put the same letters together in the main trunk and you were done. The problem was some of the letters had fallen off the branches.
I had to match the branches up the best I could and stick them in the trunk. I thought I had matched them up correctly and began assembling the tree.
I moved it into its spot and untangled the mess of lights. I strung them around the tree, realizing late I had not plugged them in to see if they worked.
They did. Thank goodness.
I put the decorations on the tree, stepped back to admire my work and then collapsed into bed.
When I woke the next morning, I went into the living room to admire my handwork. The tree had a giant dent in one side. Obviously, I had gotten some of the branches in the wrong spot. I found some stray garland and put it in the hole, pulling some branches over to cover the repair.
Greg arrived home and I showed off my hard work, but walked him quickly past the dented tree.
"Something's off on that tree," he said.
"Yes, it may be," I replied. "But don't say anything. Sometimes, just getting it done is good enough."