Imperfect

I wish I could tell you that after all the work, all the time and energy, we put into doing this tile floor ourselves, I can now stand back and admire it. I wish I could tell you that it was all worth it. I wish I could tell you that I have a sense of accomplishment. I wish I could tell you those things. But I can't.

The good news is that the floor is done. The better news is that I actually lost weight during this whole process (most of which, I can only assume, was in tears). The bad news is that when I look at my new floor, my should-be-beautiful new floor, all I can see are the mistakes we made. The mistakes I made.

Grouting the floor, being down at floor-level and seeing up close any little bit of unevenness, was awful. Not to mention that I did the grout wrong. But I will produce an anxiety attack if I get into that. I admire people that can do things. That have the confidence to tackle a task and when they are done stand back and feel good about it. I, on the other hand, am not wired that way. With each oops, I focus on what people will think when they walk into my home. Are they going to notice that it's uneven right there, right at the end of the hall? Are they going to see that the grout line is thicker here? Along the step?

Wade keeps reminding me that this is the first time we have done this. Tiled. And we took on a monstrous project. But it's not quite that simple. Yes, it's probably too much to expect perfection on our first (or second, as the case may be) try, but this is the center of our house. Where everyone enters. Where we entertain. I can't stand the thought that it looks like we did the tile ourselves, first time or not. In order to help me, Wade told me about a coworker who had an area half the square footage as us professionally tiled. All told, doing it ourselves, we saved over $2,000. I know my response was supposed to something like, "Wow, that alone makes all of this worth it," but instead I thought, "I'd have paid twice that." I comfort myself by thinking that someday we can re-tile. And by "we" I mean "we can pay someone who knows what they are doing."

I think (I hope) that when other people, people who aren't as obsessed with my floor as I am, will walk in, instead of seeing all of the imperfections, they will see the whole picture. Because, the tile is really pretty. And it has completely changed the way my entire house feels, brought it out of 1975 and into the 2000's. It looks perfect with the paint and once we get new carpet, the whole main floor is going to feel like a new house.

I've realized something about myself throughout all of this. I guess I've known it all along, but this experience really brought it out. I think I'm some kind of perfectionist. I'm not the kind who needs things perfect for me. You should see my bedroom...not perfect. But when it comes to other people, what other people are going to think of me, that's were the perfectionist comes out. I guess I want other people to think I'm perfect. And that goes for my kitchen floor as well.

I learned something else, as well. I learned that paying someone else to do stuff, so that I can come home to find it done right, is worth every penny.