Manically, I’m scrubbing the inside of a microwave. There’s a small piece of what used to be corn shriveled up in the back. I pinch it with my fingers and toss it in the garbage with disgust. How did I not see this before? What’s given me this new perspective?
Last weekend, I went into an epic nesting rage as my wife and I get closer to our first-born’s arrival. She was in on it too, buying and assembling furniture that had no place.
It occurred to me, this is a lot like what happens when I release a new project into the wild. I obsess over every detail. I need to birth it into a secure and loving environment for arrival. I can’t saddle it with a name that will be used against it for years.