Perfection

I’m finally finished with that job
I worked on day and night.
I did the very best I could
to make it come out right.

Yeah, it took every skill I had
and then I learned some more.
So now I’m left with blistered hands
and with a back that’s sore.

My garden shed looks like a dream,
as good as it could be.
I did the work all by myself;
the credit goes to me.

But even though it looks so good,
and everyone agrees,
I know myself there are some spots
off by a few degrees.

Yeah, nothing ever is just so.
Perfection can’t be done.
There always are some minor flaws,
and I know every one.

And even though you won’t see them,
I know just where they are.
Those little innocent mistakes
that are not up to par.

So as we walked around that shed
my neighbor was in awe.
But then I had to go ahead
and point out every flaw.

I couldn’t help myself, it seems.
Those botches weigh on me.
I point them out to everyone;
I just can’t let it be.

My eyes go to the very spots
where there are cracks or dents.
My wife tells me to just shut up
and take the compliments.