Better than you found it

By Cooper

Above my desk hangs an antique, needlepoint sampler that I found in a thrift shop. It reads:

Leave Everything A Little Better Than You Found It

I love this philosophy, and try my best to live by it, although I have to admit there are moments when I take the mantra, you know, too seriously.

Kind of like Martha Stewart announcing that she has some helpful hints for remaking the country's prison system. 

For some reason, ideas about how to make things, well, better (at least according to me) just come flying into my brain, often uninvited. My husband has a word for it: compulsive.

I like to think I can make positive contributions, but I admit there are times I should mind my own damn business.

Take, for instance, a recent family wedding.

As my husband and I walked into the church for the ceremony I was immediately bothered by the large, crisp, white bows on each pew. They looked kind of... wrong. When we sat down I realized the bows were not stuck to the pews with the usual, unassuming florist adhesive or hook device -- they were wrapped, around and around, with extremely wide, dirty and frayed black duct tape.

I was seated on the aisle and therefore had an alarming, up close and personal view of the unfortunate decor. Glancing about to make sure no one was watching, I started to pick at the tape and rearrange the ribbon over it.

Then I noticed someone in the row behind me doing the same thing.

It was my mother.

"It must be genetic," I whispered.

She looked at my neatly arranged pew bow, and then at hers, and then at the peculiar, duct tape covered bows adorning the other pews and she giggled. My mom has a contagious laugh, so I began to giggle, too.

Extended family members started to send hairy eyeballs and make hrumph noises in our direction. It wasn't until the bride began to walk down the aisle that we were able to control ourselves.

But, wouldn't you know, I could not stop fiddling with that duct tape. 

Comments

[autumn hour]

one day when we got back from the grocery store, my 6 year old was helping me put away the groceries. this particular day we had stocked up on ramen noodles. (yes, ramen noodles! she likes them, what can i say?) so as she's putting them away, my husband walks in just in time to hear my little one say, "they need to be arranged by color from darkest to lightest." my husband looked at her, then looked at me and said, "it must be genetic."

[LauriJon]

My husband likes to kid me about the fact that I'll make the bed while we're still in it. I like to have the sheet and comforter folded over at the top just so... and I can sleep that way and not mess it up. He on the other hand is like a child who is all over the covers and they end up in a mess. Compulsive, me? No!

Regarding the black, frayed and dirty duct tape, someone probably forgot those fancy hidden floral wires and in a panic attached the bows the only way they could.

Great writing!!! I began giggling along with you and your mother!

[Peyton]

My mother and I share a similar compulsion, and it usually translates into paper napkin shredding. We both are unable to sit with our hands still, so if given a paper napkin, we will shred it into a million pieces without even being consciously aware we are doing it. I wonder if my daughter will inherit our behavior?