Cutting It Close (or NOT Perfection)

Do you ever feel like pulling your hair out? Has your day ever weighed you down so that it seems like you’re swimming through molasses? Have you ever had a mini panic attack because time just keeps rolling along and you don’t see how you can accomplish everything that has to be done?

If you answered yes to any of those questions you know where I am coming from tonight.

My day-to-day job is centered around getting items out the door and into people’s hands in a timely manner. Now, for the most part people are pretty cool about when their orders arrive. Not right now. Right now they want everything yesterday. That is because it is eight days until Christmas. So…I have to scramble around packing, labeling, hauling and shipping boxes by 5:00 each day. That is when our Post Office closes.

Having a daily deadline can be a good thing. It makes me set my priorities on what needs to be done and when.  I like to relate it to the writing I do and I know it keeps me focused.

perfectionBut sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it is like playing that game Perfection. You know the one. It’s this big puzzle where you have to fit all the pieces into the correct holes before the ticking timer runs out. There is a frantic dash to match shape with shape and if you don’t finish in time, the whole puzzle pops up into your face.

That is how I was feeling today. I was sure those pieces where going to hit me on the nose. I wasn’t beating the timer. It was beating me in the form of a jammed label maker. I ended up running out the door ten minutes before five and then sloshed through the snow to cross the threshold just before they locked the doors at the Post Office.

There is always a huge sense of relief when I get there in time even when I don’t think it’s possible. In fact I am notorious at the Post Office for coming in just under the wire. On the few occasions I arrive around 3:00 or 4:00, the people behind the counter always check the clock. It makes me laugh.

So here’s to cutting it close. I appreciate being able to flop down into my chair after a harrowing experience on the sidewalks. If I was never under stress I wouldn’t be able to appreciate the liberation that comes afterwards. It would be nice though if it didn’t happen everyday. Plus, my hair could stand a break from the constant pulling.

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