I have had the pleasure (and I do truly mean that) of having my mother-in-law in for a visit for a bit. She is a sewer (read so-er, not sue-er). Every time she comes to visit, there is some sort of sewing project on the docket. Usually I will stash away a shirt in need of a button.
So,—or should I say sew—this evening she is hunkered deep into a project and makes the point that "Some day, when in heaven, do you think you'll say of me, "My don't you think she was anal about those drapes?"". To which I responded, "When we get to heaven, there probably is a lot we'll look back on and say that there really wasn't a need to be quite so anal."
When we are too exacting, do we lose out on mystery and excitement? Do we determine, or do we detriment our impact?
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