This is a work in progress folks:
For as long as I can remember I’ve been searching for perfection.
To be specific, I’m seeking the perfect dishrack. One that drains. One where the utensils don’t fall out, kerplunk, into the sink. One which doesn’t rust or go mouldy. Is this so very hard to find? Well, yes as a matter of fact. I’ve tried many styles over the years.
And somehow the current dishrack is never the perfect one. We are talking about dishracks, people. Or are we?
I wonder (not for the first time) if this quest for dishrack perfection is simply a metaphor for my life. Where is that perfect haircut? Why can’t I find it? I ruefully trawl websites for ‘the one’. When I was working I was always seeking that perfect job. And the perfect partner? Don’t get me started.
I’m not that person who finds one clothing brand and sticks with it for the rest of their lives. There’s a restless questing for ‘something else’ … something better. Oh, yes. The grass is always greener ‘over there’ … in fact, maybe it’s the wrong kind of grass altogether. After all there’re so many to choose from.
I remember being shocked when I looked in my mum’s dressing table to see that she had hundreds of lipsticks. They were all slightly different shades of coral. This gave me an insight into my own restless searching. I now have a drawer full of pink lipsticks (ever so slightly different from one another).
to be continued …