in which Perfection is attained, but not without Great Consequence.

i am a perfectionist. selectively, of course. life would be even more pervasively anti-social than it is now if i didn't learn to let some things go. for instance, in bold, sharp and refreshing contrast to most perfectionists, i care little for Neatness. it's just not that deep for me whether the organisms in my dishes are performing live on the stage of evolution a mere ten feet from where i rest my weary head. as long as there is not a certain Mouse scuttling about dragging its black heart behind it, i'm not concerned with the making, distribution, or multiplication of Mess.

in Dyke Training School, we learned to be meticulous about trimming our nails, a habit i take to perfectionist extremes. i just feel a little off if all the clipped edges aren't smooth and in a semi-circle fashion. it causes me to stutter slightly when speaking to strangers. yeah, that's why i do that. it's the nails.

but if you'd been a spider or ant or something happily munching away at the Messy crumbs from when i ate bread with more carb-consuming joy than has graced the planet in the past three, maybe four years, you would have seen something that would have permeated your exoskeleton with great emotional intensity. you would have cried little bug tears into the bread crumbs, and then you would have compained that the bread got all soggy and gross, and you would have cursed me and blamed me for always causing you to cry. your feelings would have been completely valid, but i would have reminded your that words like 'always' and 'never' are not constructive when dealing with conflict. i would have asked you to use a more respectful, less accusatory tone and to really see beyond this specific issue so we could talk about what's really bothering you.

and you would have sobbed into your bread crumbs, 'it's you. you, sitting there holding a ruler up to your laptop to see if the columns really are lined up correctly. you know the computer does that automatically, and yet you didn't trust it. you needed to be sure so you actually held a ruler up to the screen. i saw you grab a wooden ruler that was on the desk first, and when you realized that wood may not be as straight as you need it to be, i watched you hunt around for the metal ruler that you knew you had around somewhere. you completely fucked up my meal. look, these bread crumbs are ruined. just ruined.'

and i would have rubbed your tiny boneless legs in an attempt to comfort you, shaking my head with shame and remorse.