A Perfection's Manifesto Of Freedom

This morning started pretty much like any morning. I walked into my ‘dressing room’, a 9X9 converted bedroom, where we now house our dressers.  It makes a perfect dressing room, with a nice big window, closet, wall space to hold 2 dressers and a mirror.  As I entered the room, like I do several times a day, I was assailed by my life long inability to put away my clothes.  There is some order to the chaos; stacks of clean are housed on top of the short faux-dresser under the window, winter wear (snowboarding clothes) religiously flung over the IKEA twin, futon-chair, dirties can always be counted on to be cascading down the outsides of the hamper in the corner, and the ‘maybe’s’ live contentedly in a small pile in front of the dresser.  Truthfully, there is not enough drawer space to hold the clothes easily, and I cling dearly to this thought as a way of assuaging my guilt and minimalizing my obvious shortcoming. 'Well..' I say to myself 'I'm definitely not perfect!'

Standing in the doorway, visually feasting on this picnic of piles, I thought ‘I’d like to see the faces of all those people that think I’m perfect, that nothing in my house, or my life is ever out of place; to see the expression on their faces if they coud see this disaster would be priceless.  I think I’ll take a picture, post it on Facebook with a caption that reads “Nope!  Not perfect.”’

I’m exhausted with trying to be perfect.  There are a few people, in particular, that I would really love to take on a walk through my house, pointing out the notable sites with great elegance, as though on a paid tour of an historic mansion. ‘Notice the light switch there in the bedroom closet.’ I would say as if calling attention to a rare antique.  ‘It’s been broken for the last 5 years.  It requires a part that cost $1.25 and 15 minutes of DIY, but I just haven’t done it.’  From there, we’d move to my guest room/craft room where I could do the ‘Vanna White Sweep’ with my arm, drawing attention to the vast piles of Christmas boxes that still remain stacked on the floor, the glorious Mount Vesuvius of blankets cascading off of the guest bed, and the magnificent hodge-podge of crafting materials, on a rather large work table, abandoned for other, newer, more exciting projects.  The jewel in the crown, saved for last, like the finale of the 4th of July fireworks, would be the breathtaking view of my dressing room, a battle field of exploded fashion, sports gear, footwear and linens.  ‘Oh yes!’  I would say.  ‘As you can plainly see...a perfectly perfect person lives here!’.

Enough, I say!  I am not perfect.  I don’t want to be perfect.  I want to be known as Just Plain Old Me...just like plain old you.  So, I am writing this manifesto for all to read. I am boldly claiming my right to leave stuff out, forget dates, and occasionally even be disorganized, without guilt or self flagellation.  I may frame my Manifesto and hang it right inside my front door for all that enter to behold and be forewarned...A Perfectionist does not live here, anymore!

MY PERFECTIONIST'S MANIFESTO OF FREEDOM

From this day forward I will not be seen performing acts commonly recognized as those of a Perfectionist.  If I am seen exhibiting this easily recognizable behavior it is requested that the observer poke, prod, smack or dump something on me to put an end to this abominable display. 

My imperfect life, hence forth, can be counted on to include, but is not limited to the following list:

1. There will always be at least 1 toilet in my house that could use a good swirl with the toilet brush.
2. Furniture will go un-dusted for weeks, months during snowboarding season, without guilt. (especially lamp shades)
3. At least one surface in the kitchen will have a pile...correct that...a mound of unorganized stuff, ranging from earrings to DMV notices to have the emissions tested on the car...tomorrow.
4. Outdoor furniture may be left out during the winter, unless putting it away brings me joy.
5. Windows will be left in their ‘natural’ state until either you can’t see out of them, or the bird poop becomes distracting to the view.
6. There will always be a bag, box or small pile behind the rocker in the corner of my kitchen, that holds a  few pieces of weird mail, an old candle, 1 sock and other, similar extraneous stuff.
7. My dressing room will never be neat.  Clothes will be piled on the floor, as needed.
8. Chips, or snack foods of any kind, will be served to guests from the bag, not requiring a lovely basket or decorative bowl unless all in attendance are wearing formal attire.
9. The front hall closet floor will have random, bulky things haphazardly stored in it.
10. Putting TP on the TP holder is optional, as long as it is accessible to the user, it’s fine.
11. Light bulbs will be left blown out until I feel like going upstairs for the express purpose of retrieving a new one, or I remember to grab one when I’m already up there.

As I am no longer a Perfectionist, I am able to change my mind, at whim, on any of these items, and freely add to the list when the spirit moves me.  

These are the words and wishes of a freed Perfectionist.  I will not pass this way again.

Signed,

Lisa