We were once told, ‘Your house is like a museum’, referring to the inside decor of our rooms. I thought it to be a complimentary statement and it probably was, at least I assume it was. But now, I see that statement as an observation of someone who is a perfectionist. One who wants a place for everything and everything in its place. While the statement was complimentary, it was probably seen as unrealistic for their own house. In truth, the whole minimalistic perfect look isn’t realistic at all unless Architectural Digest is present for a photo shoot.

Looking back, yes our house was ‘like a museum in how it looked on the inside. Everything was perfectly aligned with accompanying furniture, and/or wall hangings. Items placed on any furniture surface was scrutinized from at least three, sometimes four points of view to ensure correct placement location. I once interrupted our own single-guest dinner party because the placement of the wall clock was, in my opinion, anchored too high in the Dining room. It could have been days or even weeks after I initially hung the wall clock but it was placed too high on the wall and I thought I should be able to live with it. Turns out I could not. I was compelled to stop eating, get out the step stool and hammer, and move the clock just inches lower.

That example is only one of many others.

I understand how museums are set up so as to not distract a visitor away from the art itself, so there is order and structure in placement of everything. The room environment, furniture design and its placement, should not be its own work of art. Museums exist so that people can enjoy the displayed art and gain insight about the artist and his/her work.

So the museum and its exhibits really become a visual History lesson. Very cool. Learning about the world in which we live through the eyes and mind of a talented being attempting to visually document their world in their own style.

Years later, our house is no longer like a museum. I don’t see that as a negative in the least but instead see it as a comfortable space where we can live and be ourselves. Isn’t that what makes us truly happy, to be ourselves and be okay with it?

Accepting perfectionism is an on-going process. One that requires a person to let go of what is perceived as ‘perfect’. That would be me. White flag up, I surrender. There is no ‘perfect’, and that just needs to be okay.

I am content that my house is no longer ‘like a museum’. Now I wouldn’t even want it to be, because perfect in this world is unobtainable.