I am writing this because I am not trimming my windows. The living room windows that were installed in early summer, the windows that have been on every weekend’s to-do list for months, the windows that still have the Jeld-Wen logo plastic on both sides to compensate for the lack of blinds or curtains. Those windows.
I haven’t trimmed them because I don’t really know what I am doing, but budget and pride has prevented me from hiring it done. Mostly pride, truth be told. I said I was going to do it, I bought the saw, I’ll be damned if I hire it done now. But I haven’t started because of fear: I will botch it, it will look amateurish, I will get part-way done and then (horrors!) have to admit defeat and hire it. So, not starting is the obvious choice.
How often in my life has that been true? The business ideas I never act on, the books (yes, more than one) started but never completed. I have changed careers many times. I have a closet and garage full of half-completed and abandoned hobbies: I have knitted 1/3 of a sweater, made two batches of hand-made paper, collected tiles for a mosaic never realized.
It isn’t fair to only list the failures: I have made more than a dozen lovely little dish cloths with my knitting, kept with Martial Arts for 10 years before an injury took me out, stuck with a marriage for as long and fought hard before leaving in deep sorrow. But fear, of failure or of success, does stunt my accomplishments. That and a confusion between what I think I should do and what I really want to do. I think I should be handy enough to trim the windows. But what I really want is for them to be done so I can do the pretty part: pick fabric and furniture and make the space comfortable and mine.
Perhaps instead of focusing on the should, my planning in the future can include more honesty with myself about what I want and have the skills and interest to complete. But first, something must be done about those windows, staring at me through cataract eyes with a look that says: “You should have trimmed us by now.”