Back when I still owned a house, I got it into my head to completely remodel my bathroom. I mean, I ripped out everything down to the studs and started from scratch. Two words: Never again. But I do try to learn something from every experience, and I learned quite a few things from this one.
First of all, if you are working on a project with your boyfriend, never ever do the bulk of your work out of his sight. I worked 8 hours a day for months on that accursed bathroom, then would go to work at night. But since he didn’t see that, he’d work on the project only on the weekends, and was convinced that we split the work 50/50. Give me strength.
Second, never let a room full of men intimidate you into taking shortcuts that you know are going to come back and bite you in the butt, because the butt that will get bitten will be your own.
Third and most important is a motto that I’ve carried through to many other areas of my life: “Don’t Mess with the Plaster”. I should tattoo that on the inside of my eyelids, because these are truly words to live by.
You see, that house was built in 1925 and had settled over the years, and there wasn’t a 90 degree angle anywhere within it. Because of this, getting the walls to look like you weren’t in some sort of a funhouse took quite a bit of effort. Just putting in drywall sounds like a plan, but since each panel would be slightly askew from its neighbor, you had to do some creative plastering to transition between the two.
Plastering that bathroom became the bane of my existence. I wanted it to be perfect. I’d add thin layers, wet sand, come back a couple hours later, add another layer, modify…then scrape it all off and start over again. I’d wake up out of a sound sleep knowing I’d never get back to dreamland until I worked on it. I had plaster in my hair, under my nails, in my nostrils. I became Plaster Girl. And in the end, after all that stress, frustration, and anxiety, I was probably no better off than I would have been if I just applied a few layers and moved on.
Don’t mess with the plaster. Don’t strive for perfection. Perfection, for the most part, is unachievable. The pursuit of perfection will drive you insane, and you might make things worse. Strive for what works.
I was reminded of this the other day when I was talking to a friend about his long distance relationship. I asked him if he was ever planning to visit his girlfriend. I mean, I would. It’s such a wonderful relationship. Wouldn’t you want it to be perfect? He pointed out to me that they were very happy with things as they are, so why mess with that? He could go see her, yes, but she’s an efficient ICU nurse and he’s a laid back hippie, and he’d probably drive her nuts by leaving dirty socks in the corner. What they have is happiness. Why is it necessary to seek more?
Don’t mess with the plaster, people.
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