Bitch on the Blog

December 16, 2014


Filed under: Amusement,Beauty,Happiness — bitchontheblog @ 19:08
Tags: , , ,

I like doing things for people. Not because I am selfless. Not at all. Like Mother Theresa I am totally selfish because I like doing things for people. So there.

For sensible reasons I find myself a recovering perfectionist. Not being perfect is hard when you are perfect and/or have aspirations. To help me along a hopeless path, once or twice a year, the Angel will ask me to wrap a present for him to give to, say, a work colleague. Mind: “Don’t make it perfect, Mama. It’s got to look as if I could have, conceivably, done it myself.” And thus I keep learning that it’s far harder to bodge a job than to get it right. This minute I am proud of myself. No one but no one would guess that I’ve wrapped those glasses.

Nice to be needed, don’t you think?




  1. Hello! Legs used to like helping…. who was Legs? Legs was the eight legged beetle (yes eight legged) in Eudoria’s Broomstick by Victor Knowland, a favourite book as a child:
    Memorably Legs described walking with eight legs as being like getting the pistons in an engine to work together.

    Comment by magpie11 — December 16, 2014 @ 20:33 | Reply

    • Oh, Magpie, on top of everything else I am not ambitious. Two legs will do me fine. Four at a push – and only when put to good use. Which reminds me of Long John Silver and his stump. Both of whom I was fond of as a child – and still am.

      I shall dig out “Legs” not least because your recommendation is my command. I do like broomsticks – fear of heights not withstanding – and a simmering cauldron full of the less appetizing ingredients to make lotions and potions be right up my stirring abracadabra. Yes, Magpie, big sigh: “Once upon a time … when wishing still helped.”


      Comment by bitchontheblog — December 17, 2014 @ 04:57 | Reply

  2. I suffer from the same dilemma. I used to be perfect —or so I thought. With age it doesn’t happen, & takes longer to do. If I want to be REALLY perfect I must get it ALL done. Plague be to aging.

    Comment by bikehikebabe66 — December 16, 2014 @ 21:00 | Reply

    • In wake of disaster-gate (see my reply to WWW) my mother was exasperated with me: “But you were always so perfect!” Yes, well sorry to disappoint. Sometimes there is gruel for breakfast not nice Scottish porridge with cream.

      Thought of you (and all those and us of advancing years) yesterday when once more, and a well worn and known notion, this elderly woman said: “The problem with old age is not your body, it’s that in your mind you are still twenty five.” Or – in my case – five.

      As to perfectionism: Relax – is all I can say. Being perfect is totally overrated. Which is why I don’t attempt souffles. And why I refused to learn how to turn a perfect corner. For some reason the Brits – particularly in hospitals – are obsessed with beds’ perfectly turned corners. That way you squeeze underneath your blanket – they don’t like fluffy snugly unruly Continental duvets – feeling like a sardine. Which, apropos of nothing, probably accounts for the success of the long running London show “No sex please, we are British”.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — December 17, 2014 @ 04:43 | Reply

  3. H’m a good question. I am a bit of a perfectionist, can be demolished if a knitting widget isn’t working out or a piece of music but the rest can all rot. Judging by my house, but please don’t. You’d get the wrong impression.

    Comment by wisewebwoman — December 17, 2014 @ 03:17 | Reply

    • Yes, “selective” perfectionism as I call it is to be highly recommended. Compulsive perfectionism less so. In fact, it’s often a downright kill joy. The type of people who won’t have a pet because it’ll spoil the vista of their perfect minimalism. I know someone who – the older he gets – the more he works himself into a frenzy to get everything “right”. If it weren’t vaguely worrying it’d be comical. Verdict of of the Angel: “I couldn’t live there.”

      My own aim is organized chaos. Having said that: I need to know where everything is. About six years ago my life was on the verge of dislocating itself. The scale of disaster was majestic. In the wake of which I lost (literally) many things (and people). Someone once said that my life appears to be marked by “loss”. Surprised me since I see loss and gain as ebb and tide of any life. However, those six years ago and in its aftermath I became panicky. For three years I’d wake up in the middle of the night – in a feverish sweat, heart pounding in the grip of acute anxiety and had to find – that very minute – whatever I thought I’d lost. We are not talking valuables. We are talking irreplaceables (letters, notes, a vase, you name it, anything with a personal touch). Anyway, a lot of loss has now been put to rest, committed to memory. No more tears. The only “things” I haven’t recouped are people who shed me as if I were a leper – not Ms Perfect any longer – the minute my Titanic nearly hit the iceberg.

      I am torn, WWW, and I couldn’t be more close up and personal by voicing it: I am still battling (but less and less so) trying to reconcile the image I had/have of those people’s personalities (major players in my life – and good people) with the fact that aspects of their behaviour towards me was/is despicable. Not just in my own eyes. In that of many close and others who have no allegiance to either them or me. The one cliff I managed to avoid – and I count myself lucky – that I didn’t becoming bitter. Though now understand why some people do. Literature and biographies are full of those retreating from life – not because of the card life has dealt them but finding themselves forced to bury the still living.

      And via this little detour we may conclude that if forced to step onto a cow pad make sure it’s a dried out one.

      Don’t drop the stitch, WWW. Not that you would.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — December 17, 2014 @ 04:30 | Reply

  4. Saint U, it sounds to me like the angel wants a post-modern wrapping job. This can be perfect as well according to the science of post-modernism, yet appearing to the untrained eye as if it were done by a careless amateur.

    Comment by Looney — December 19, 2014 @ 01:14 | Reply

  5. I think the point with perfection is to aim at perfection as a challenging aspiration but to accept that in practice you’ll never achieve it and to be happy with having done the best you can. In any case, imperfection, either in people or things, is always more interesting than the flawlessly perfect.

    As for duvets, I don’t agree the British are agin them. We’ve had duvets for many years and so do most the households I’ve visited. I don’t think many people still cling to sheets and blankets.

    Comment by nick — December 19, 2014 @ 11:40 | Reply

  6. Oh, yes! Very nice indeed to be liked. Can’t get enough of it.

    Comment by rummuser — December 20, 2014 @ 12:46 | Reply

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