Wednesday was one of those days. Work. Drive home. Class. It has become routine. A once a week routine, but a routine.

But.

Construction season has started. So my 30-40 minute commute took me over an hour. I was late to class, and there was no time to sit and zone out for a minute. Class went until 9 pm, as scheduled. I generally go to bed around 10 or 11 pm.

So.

It makes for a long day. After class, I watched an episode of Game of Thrones and then bed. Hooray Hump Day!

In the meantime, James had sent me his blog to edit. He told me he was writing about perfection this week. And he did. And it is lovely. You can read it here: http://www.thepaisleyfields.com/blog/2015/6/11/make-art-not-perfection.

As I read his blog and tried not to snarl at anyone, I started thinking about my ideas on perfection.

I have called myself a perfectionist, but not in a serious way. But if I am honest, I have tendencies that could come off a little overbearing and well, like I am striving for some kind of perfect. I like cups arranged row after neat row in my cupboard. I will spend an ungodly amount of time editing one sentence. I like paint lines to be straight, shoes to be unscuffed, and vases of arrows placed carefully in a beautiful array. (If you come to my house, you would see the arrow bouquet. Just don’t touch!)

I also want to say the right thing. I want to be funny and sensitive. I want to be outraged, when outrage is needed.

It is incredibly exhausting to keep paint lines straight, shoes unscuffed, cups straight, and to always have the right words spill from your lips. It requires constant vigilance. And honestly, I can’t do it. No one can, really. Everyone makes mistakes.

As I grow older, I realize you have to let things go. I am never going to please everyone. You can’t plan the perfect anything because the sky may open up. A boat might blow its horn during your wedding ceremony. You might spill an entire paint tray down the back of your pants. (Yes. That was me.) It is all a part of being human. And these are the moments you find yourself laughing at later.

If you can’t laugh at these little accidents, you will lead a very somber life. Laughter help keeps me sane.

The next day, I was bemoaning the traffic to James via text. I sent him a string of emojis about what I was going to do if I was caught in such an ugly traffic jam again that day.

Looking at the text, I realized I had accidentally included a stack of books in my otherwise violent string of knife, gun, and bomb emojis. My text suggested that if I was caught in traffic again, I was going to try to read someone to death.

I laughed out loud. That has to be the least terrifying threat ever made, I thought. And suddenly, my day was brighter.

So this week’s song is “Flawless” by Beyonce. I reserve the right to use this song again because it is that good. Also if you haven’t heard of Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche, she is a great writer. I have Americanah sitting on my bookshelf.

***Just to be clear, I am not a road rage kind of person. Just one to sit cursing behind my wheel like everyone else. ***