I hate making mistakes. Yet, I make them all the time. I go behind myself repeatedly in hopes of catching them all. However, I still let them get by, unfortunately, regularly.

There is one thing worse than making a mistake. As I say, I spend a lot of time proofreading. Sometimes I think I made a mistake and I correct it. Only to realize I was right to begin with. It is, of course, worse than the mistake.

It would sure be nice to be perfect. To be sure, there are those who except nothing less than perfection. Obviously, they will not be satisfied with me. It used to really bother me. Not so much anymore. I do the best I can. Somehow I think I get my point across. That is good enough for me. If you really want to pick at the details, that’s your problem. Because of details, you miss the point. Sometimes, that point is important.

Then again, missing the point might be your desire.