I am a compulsive reviser. A fan of perfection. I hate getting things “slightly wrong” when I feel, just a bit down the road, as if they could be better.
One of the things I’m trying to learn in life is how to one-and-done. To do, then to accept that it is done, and move on, even if it could have been better. Everything does not have to be perfect. And trying to make everything perfect is a way of never letting anything be what it is.
It’s a way to drive yourself and everyone around you absolutely nuts.
Sometimes the perfect isn’t just “the enemy of the good,” it is in fact a roving predator that devours everything in its path. And what the perfect is really made of, of course, is fear.