See this row of boards? This will become the outer wall of our chicken run. See how it’s all nice and straight? Dare I say, perfectly straight?
Now look at this one.
Um, yeah. Something happened here. A slight measuring miscalculation, an issue reading the level, a misplaced shovel when digging, a little bump in the wrong direction before the dirt was replaced. All ways it could have happened but the fact is that it doesn’t matter why or how. It just happened. Definitely imperfect. And sometimes, when you’re busy plodding away on your work, you fail to see the problem until it’s too late.
And at this point, the only way to fix it would be to take apart a lot of boards. That wastes time and materials. Our other option is to live with it. I mean, it is only for the chickens and it doesn’t hurt anything. In fact, if you want to think about it positively, it gives the chickens a few extra inches of leg room.
But if you know me well, you know this: I don’t like mistakes. I can’t STAND knowing that something is wrong. If something is wrong, it must be corrected until it is right. It must be as close to perfect as I can humanly make it. Perfectionism is the only way to go.
An easy example: All the blinds in the house must be opened to precisely the same height. They must be perfectly straight across too – no lopsidedness here. And this doesn’t apply to just my house. If I’m at your house and eyeballing your windows with a look of pain, it might be because I’m physically restraining myself from straightening your blinds.
Another example: The kid’s schoolwork. We homeschool and don’t keep track of grades. We go with the “you need to understand it before moving on” theory which means we review missed answers together. Because we work together, the kids might not update their workbook with the right answer. But, after they walk away, I DO! I can’t stand leaving the incorrect answer on the page. I mean, it’s not like they are ever going to look back at problem 3b on page 54. But it drives me crazy when it is wrong so it must be fixed.
Now, I know you might be thinking “Uh, she might want to see someone about this.” Well, you could be right. But at that point, our little homestead is providing me with free therapy. It is making me accept that sometimes, things simply aren’t perfect. And no matter how hard you wish they were, they just won’t be.
And not only that. It’s teaching me that some things are completely okay being wrong. A shocking concept for me, let me tell you. But living in 100+ year old house on a little farm that has been neglected for the past 20 years really makes you think about what needs to be right and what can stay wrong.
I am accepting the fact that the flowerbeds won’t be weed-free. And the old buildings are a little saggy and droopy. Mud will always be on the mudroom floor. The floors of the house aren’t level. No matter how much we filter the water, it will still make the toilet a little yellow. And this chicken run, well, it’s a little crooked. And I’m going to be okay with that.
And so, our next rule:
Rule #4: Sometimes it’s perfectly okay to be wrong.
Other posts that might be of interest: