Wabi Sabi and the Beauty of Imperfection



I’m a perfectionist born and raised. That being said, just because I’m a perfectionist doesn’t mean that everything I do is perfect. Not at all. Not even close. Not even sometimes. For example, the holidays are rearing their ugly faces (and I mean U-G-L-Y), and it's all crazy and I need to get all of the gifts wrapped. Have I mentioned how much I hate wrapping? It’s kind of like baking…too precise for my taste. I love to cook. I can be creative and there are no exact measurements, but baking is for the birds…Oh Look! A chicken! ANYWAY, it took me about fifteen minutes to wrap each gift, because of the damn perfectionism. You would then think that the gifts were wrapped to a T right? Wrong again. They look like every other wrapped gift under the tree. It just takes me ten minutes to fold and refold the corners…you also have to add in the cutting time. You know, when you have to cut the paper on the straight line? Well, I can’t have any jagged edges, so I sit there and make sure every scissor stroke perfectly matches with the one before it. I also take the time to pull any stray dog or cat hairs from the tape that happened to be laying on the carpet…I’m THAT sweet.