What Halloween taught me about perfection

I’m a little bit of a perfectionist. I mean, I would prefer things to be perfect, but over the years,  I’ve learned to be happy with pretty darn good.

Take my Halloween costumes. Each year around July or August, I come up with a fan-freaking-tastic costume idea. Part of what makes these ideas so wonderful is how elaborate they are. I’ll spend the rest of the summer doing research and planning. By the time October rolls around, I usually have one or two Saturdays available to execute.

This is rarely enough time.

I usually end up scrapping the idea and going for something else that is also awesome, but requires much less effort. This year, I had big plans for an elaborate costume (that I won’t spoil because there’s always next year), but as September turned to October, I shifted gears and put a together a costume that required just one successful trip to a thrift store and one swift order from Amazon.

Getting something perfect takes a lot of time. In a world of deadlines and competing priorities, that time is a luxury we don’t often have. I have no regrets about the amount of effort I put into my Halloween costumes, my tasks at work, or my other responsibilities. Even if none of them turn out perfect, all of them turn out pretty darn good.

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As Eleven from Stranger Things this year (oh, I also grabbed a prop from my freezer)

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As half of a particularly dynamic duo, 2015: Thrift store suit, husband’s shirt, some gift wrapped boxes, bad shades, and gold chains

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As a gold digger, 2014: Strategically-wrapped and pinned gold fabric, gold shoes, gold jewelry, and a spray-painted toy shovel

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