Perfectionists Anonymous

Hi. My name is Lyndie.


I am a recovering perfectionist.



I have discovered this slowly.

I’m not stopping cold turkey.

I still have cravings. And sometimes I indulge them.



Sometimes I’m not sure that perfectionism is really wrong.

But it is.



It's bad for me.

It's bad for people who love me.



Sometimes it's helpful. Drugs can be "helpful" too.

I wonder if people can tell I'm a perfectionist just by looking at me.

I doubt it. Thank goodness.



I have wanted a Red kettle for a Long time.

Probably for approximately Five years.

I had seen others Red kettles and coveted them.

I saw Red kettles in the store and lusted after them.

I wasn't obsessed... well, maybe I was, for awhile.

I couldn't buy one for myself though.

I had a perfectly functioning bland looking kettle at home.

But a week before our Annual Christmas Party, the ol' kettle just up and broke.

I thought about the replacement.

Could I justify the extra cost of buying a Red tea kettle?

David knew how much I would love it.

Maybe as an early Christmas gift...
Then I got my Christmas $ from work.

And I realized- I could get myself a Red kettle AND have $ left over.

So, I Did!

In time for the Christmas party, yet to boot.

It was lovely too.

It looked like this.

I'm surprised I didn't take a picture of it myself.

Very un-me-ish.

I was pleased. But, surprisingly, not giddy.

It was kind of as if it had been there all along. It belonged. It was sweet.

I used it. Several times, but not excessively.

It had a merry whistle.

And, then, one day, a week or so ago, I pressed the trigger that opened the whistle to allow me to pour the steaming hot water to make tea...

(I think I was making green tea. In a blue and white china pot my sister bought me in San Fransisco's Chinatown, many years ago. It doesn't "match" my kitchen. But I use it alot. It has little matching cups. Perfect for little Yosi hands. And small bowls. It feels exotic to use the bowls as cups. Because I imagine that's what some Chinese people do.)



...and the spout-cover fell off.

My perfect Red tea kettle broke.

A few years ago, I might've howled over the injustice. Swore at the manufacturers. Cursed myself. Stomped immediately back to the store and obtained an new and shinier More Perfect one Pronto!

But it was weird. I was just like- Huh. Whaddya know. (Nothing much, is the correct answer.)

So that ladies (and gentlemen) is how I know I'm recovering.

Slowly. Sometimes 2 steps forward and 1 step back.

But something good is happening.

Watched pot never boils...



So I got a new kettle. Was it yesterday? It doesn't matter much.

David used it tonite. It has a merry whistle.

I heard it as I was getting ready to sing Yosi her goodnight songs, in my raspy, late-phase cold recovery voice.

"What's that sound Mommy?"

"The tea kettle whistling. Daddy must be getting ready to make tea."

"Can I have some?!"

"Maybe in the morning."



The new tea kettle is brushed stainless steel and has a more simple latch to lift the kettle spout-cover.

It was a cheaper kettle. But I think it's going to last much longer.

I smiled at it after I poured the water for my tea.

It's plain and simple and good.

Perfect.