There is something in a spare bedroom in my house that drives me absolutely insane. The light switch plate is crooked. Michael tried to fix it when he replaced the switch with no luck and now when I am in that room it is the first thing that my eyes go toward. It has been that way since I first moved into the house, but it just hit me the other day is the reason that it bothers me so much.
I grew up with two parents whom were extreme perfectionists, the most severe case being my father, who was a photographer. We had tons of his work hung around the house and every piece was perfectly centered and absolutely straight. The only tools I really remember my dad messing with were a hammer, a measuring tape and his level. He would spend hours making sure that every photograph was hung perfectly. I would stand by his side holding whatever he needed, sometimes even the ladder in which he only would have one foot on while the rest of his body swung around like a monkey. I was a very nervous child and remember being terrified that he would fall, but as luck would have it he never did.
So the other day I found myself looking at that stupid light switch and getting so irritated when I started to laugh. It was as if I could hear my dad finding the humor in that damn switch being crooked, and then I had my epiphany, it didn't matter, not even in the slightest. I have a wonderful family and amazing friends, a roof over my head, even though sometimes I would like to burn my house to the ground, and my health. Does everything have to be perfect.....no. Life is so short. I still wouldn't mind if it magically straightened out though ; )