Perfect is the enemy of pretty good

I visited the site this morning to take some photos and double-check a measurement, and the scene was chaos. With all three of our mechanical inspections passed (electrical, plumbing, and HVAC), the crew is now insulating the walls to prepare for drywall installation next week. At the same time, another crew is installing the soffit boards that we stained and will begin installing the siding tomorrow. The electrician also showed up to make a few adjustments, and Rick was there, too, asking and answering questions and monitoring the thousand vital little to-dos all happening at once. When the framing inspector showed up and started failing a few of the construction details, arguing with Rick about the placement of an outlet box near the radon mitigation pipe, I decided that I could panic in my car instead of in front of a bunch of strangers.

This is part of the process that I knew I would struggle with. Ceding control is not my strong suit, even in situations that are foreign to me. (Chalk up my hubris to being born a white male in the United States. I can do anything good! Everyone tells me so!) Back in my car I mentally noted all the things that could go wrong over the next few days—a shoddy insulation job, siding boards cut at odd angles, wasted materials that we ultimately have to pay for—and then I reflected on a few things that had indeed gone wrong already. Most notably, the siding crew realized this morning that we hadn't bought enough soffit boards. These boards were delivered with the lumber package a month ago, and we were glad for that. It meant we could stain them while they were on the ground, rather than risking our lives trying to complete an aerial circus trick in order to stain the boards upside down while 20 feet in the air. So, despite having planned ahead to minimize risk and cost and avoid cumbersome work, we now have raw soffit boards installed on part of the house. Cue extra risk, cost, and work.

When Mark and I first met, he introduced me to the phrase, “Perfect is the enemy of good.” When “good” was sometimes out of reach in recent years, I learned the phrase, “Done is better than good.” Today, I am meditating on these two phrases. Will the insulation and siding (and any other job for that matter) be perfect? No. Perfection comes with its own costs, both literally and in terms of time. Whatever a perfect siding job would look like, it would certainly cause delays with a premium-plus cost. At the same time, a good siding job sounds like the kind of thing you'd expect from a big-time developer who never plans to live in the house and will never meet the family who lives there. So, today I am hoping everyone aims for pretty good: pretty good insulation, pretty good soffits, pretty good siding.

I guess I should turn this idea back on myself, too. Am I handling this situation perfectly? Probably not. Am I doing a pretty good job? Well, I'm taking a few deep breaths and distracting myself with other tasks (like this blog) to take my mind off the work at the house that I have no control over right now. I am checking weather forecasts and the cost of renting paint equipment for next week, knowing that the difference between rolling and spraying paint will be, for a novice painter like me, a case of splitting hairs on time and money. Later I am going to the grocery so that I can cook a normal dinner at home with Mark during which, despite my lingering anxieties, I will try not to overburden him with my fears about bad craftsmanship and ballooning costs.

Right now I am drinking coffee and eating lunch at a coffee shop in South Nashville, next door to the shop of the guy who's designing our staircase. When I lifted my mug just now, some coffee spillage had left behind a smiley face on my napkin. Some of today has been pretty good, but the coffee stain was perfect.